Framed For Christmas
by Predec2
Summary: Sequel to "Bless the Beasts and the Children."  Justin gets an unexpected art commission just before he and Brian plan to host Gus and the Munchers for Christmas at Britin.  *STORY IS NOW COMPLETE*
1. An Intriguing Offer

_Justin receives an intriguing offer just before Christmas. _

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><p><em>Stroke of Genius Art Gallery – Chelsea, NY – Three weeks before Christmas <em>

Justin shook the snow off his sneakers as he opened the art gallery's imposing oak door and jumped just before it promptly slammed behind him due to the gusty winds blowing outside. It was brutal winter days like these in New York City when he was thankful that he could walk to the art gallery, even though his shoes were totally soaked now. He grimaced; he had scoffed at his mother's admonition the last time they spoke that he needed to buy himself a decent pair of hiking boots for the upcoming winter weather, but he had dismissed it out of hand, telling her his trusty old sneakers would more than suffice for where he needed to go in the city. Normally he rode the bus or the subway to get around town, but today the buses were running significantly behind schedule due to the weather, so he had elected to trudge through the snow to the gallery. As he stood there with his feet wet and cold and his toes feeling like they were frostbitten, however, he realized just how much he despised snowy weather and how right his mother had been.

Undoubtedly due to the inclement weather, the trendy gallery was noticeably quiet for a Saturday, which was normally its busiest day. He wasn't sure why the gallery owner, Tabitha Montgomery, had called him a short while ago and asked him to come down to see her, but she had said it was an urgent matter. His curiosity had won out over his desire to stay put inside his apartment and just vegetate in his tattered old recliner with a cup of hot chocolate at his side as he craned his neck around to look for the owner, not seeing any sign of her. He could smell the telltale aroma of freshly-brewed coffee, though, so he had an idea she was somewhere nearby. If Tabitha didn't get to drink at least six cups of coffee each day, she claimed she couldn't function. He smiled at the thought as he called out her name. "Tabitha?"

"In my office, Justin," was the prompt reply from the back of the room. "Come on in."

Justin toed off his shoes, wrinkling his nose up in distaste at the soaked socks underneath as he padded over toward the rear of the space that held a separate, spacious office for the gallery's owner. He had first met Tabitha approximately six months ago when he had been in New York City for a short time, oddly running into her at a local coffee house that he frequently patronized in the mornings to get his latte fix. One day he brought one of his sketchbooks with him and was sitting at one of the round, outdoor, wrought-iron tables drawing the people walking by when his work had caught the woman's eye as she was exiting with her espresso. She had stopped to admire his work, one thing led to another and faster than you could say _Lana Turner and Schwab's Drug Store_, he had found an agent to represent him and a place to exhibit his artwork. In the months since their alliance had been formed, he had been fortunate enough to sell sufficient quantities of his work to allow him to recently rent a small place nearby. It wasn't much – just an upstairs, efficiency-studio apartment in an old brownstone situated on top of a deli – but it was in a safe neighborhood and the building had been meticulously maintained by its owner, not to mention that it had a wonderful amount of light that streamed in from the east windows in the morning that was perfect for painting – so he was quite content with it, considering how monstrously high the rents were in most of the city.

As he walked up to her office doorway and stuck his head in to greet her, he realized she wasn't alone. There was a tall, dark-haired man who appeared to be in his 30's sitting on the couch she kept opposite her desk for visitors. Justin immediately noticed what striking eyes the man had – they were a royal blue, which offset his dark-brown hair perfectly, and his hair was thick and wavy. He was meticulously dressed in a navy blue, custom-made suit with thin white pinstripes, and wore a light gray, collarless shirt partially open, revealing firm, muscled flesh underneath. Even in the suit, Justin could tell the man took great pains to stay fit, noticing the lean, fit frame and the way his body angles molded perfectly to his outfit.

"I'm sorry," he said apologetically with a smile, turning his attention back to his friend. "I didn't know you had a visitor."

Tabitha, a tall, stylish-looking, slender woman in her mid-50's with blondish-gray hair swept up into a loose chignon, waved for him to join them. She took a sip from her mug of coffee before she shook her head and explained, grinning, "No, come on in. This is why I called you down here in the middle of a blizzard."

Justin smiled and nodded at her sheepishly as he entered, noticing her peering down at his feet. "I took my shoes off," he explained to her. "They were drenched."

Tabitha nodded with an amused smile; that was one of the things she liked about Justin. For someone as enormously talented as he was, he was totally unpretentious and down-to-earth about himself. She somehow knew that no matter how popular his art became eventually – and she had no doubt whatsoever that would happen someday – he would never become cocky or arrogant about it. It just wasn't the way he was and it was like a breath of fresh air to her after having to deal with so many snobby, moody artists in her business. "Less chance of scuff marks being left on my expensive, hardwood floor," she teased him as she scooted back from her leather chair and stood up from the desk. "I'd like to introduce you to someone," she told him as approached him and lightly placed a hand on his shoulder to turn him around to face the other man.

As the man on the couch rose for their introduction, Justin couldn't help observing again how incredibly handsome he was; his initial assessment about the man's focus on staying fit had been more than accurate. As he stood up, the man's long, lean, muscled frame came into greater scrutiny. Every bit of his appearance was meticulous as well as elegant, from his coiffed, wavy, black hair, his manicured nails, his expensive, silk shirt and suit, right down to the high gleam of his Italian leather shoes. He held himself tall and erect as he held out his tanned hand, evoking quite a formidable presence. Just then he smiled at him, a broad smile of pearly-white teeth that made him think this man could be called 'Sunshine,' too. But on this person, somehow that named seemed a little too cutesy for him, because he would be called more handsome than beautiful, a word that Brian threw out regarding him from time to time. He forced himself to push his handsome partner out of his mind for the time being and concentrate on the present as he held his hand out to shake the other man's, noticing the firm but not overly bruising grip before they broke their clasp.

"Justin, I'd like you to meet Maarten Van Den Berg," Tabitha told him. "Maarten, this is the artist I was telling you about – Justin Taylor."

The tall, dark-haired man smiled, the action spreading to his eyes that were framed with the longest lashes Justin had ever seen – he thought again about how the irises were the most vivid shade of blue, much darker than his own, and they were quite unique-looking. They seemed to have flashes of silver in them depending upon the angle. He couldn't help staring into the other man's eyes a moment longer than was socially polite before he nodded and the man spoke to him.

"Very nice to meet you, Mr. Taylor," Maarten said with a rich, distinctive accent that Justin couldn't quite place. He was speaking in perfect English, but by the sound of the man's baritone speech, he obviously was a native of some other country. "Tabitha has shown me some of your work and speaks very highly of your skill at portraiture. I'm sure you'll be perfect for me."

Justin's eyes widened as his gaydar went into the stratosphere over the tone of the man's voice. He couldn't be sure if he was flirting with him or not, but he definitely had the idea that this man was a cock man, through and through; after being around Brian for so many years, it was easy now to typically tell the difference between a gay and a straight male and this one was buzzing off the charts in that direction.

"Uh…" Justin swallowed hard. _Very glib there, Taylor…Get a grip!_ he silently admonished himself before he smiled and managed to say clearly enough, "It's nice to meet you, too, Mr. Van Den Berg."

The man shook his head slightly and with a polite smile advised, "Please…Call me Maarten. After all, we're hopefully going to be seeing a lot of each other in the next few weeks. At least you're going to be seeing a lot of ME; that is if you agree to it." The man looked over at Tabitha, who noticed Justin's frown of confusion.

The gallery owner was well aware that Justin was gay – the subject had come up naturally in one of their conversations regarding the sexy, gorgeous man that often seemed to be the focus of so many of Justin's portraits – his partner back in Pittsburgh, Brian Kinney. Justin had told her some of the details regarding the rather unorthodox relationship he and Brian had shared over the past several years, enough to know that her protégé was deeply in love with the handsome man who tended to wind up in most of Justin's more engaging pieces. In fact, Justin had just returned recently from spending Thanksgiving with his partner in Toronto, visiting the man's son and the boy's two mothers. He had come bursting into her gallery with news that he and Kinney had decided they were tired of their long-distance relationship and both wanted to find a way for the two of them to be together all the time. To her slight disappointment, her most promising artist had informed her that as soon as he could arrange it he was planning on moving back to the Pittsburgh area to be closer to his partner.

She had assured Justin that she would be more than happy to keep representing him; she knew a remote business relationship would be more difficult to maintain, but Justin was worth the extra effort. She had seen a lot of artists come and go during her more-than-25-years' experience in the business; enough to know that an artist of Justin's caliber only came around once in a lifetime. She was simply grateful that it had been she who had been the one to discover him, and if she had to work with him long-distance to keep him under her fold she was more than happy to deal with the additional logistical concerns.

Personally, she had come to think of the young artist as a friend as well as a protégé, too, so in that regard she was happy that he and his partner could be reunited. She knew that Justin seemed to spend far too many hours on his artwork and not nearly enough time actually enjoying himself when his partner wasn't around, and while his finished products continued to be phenomenal and sold well for her, she also realized they seemed to be on the melancholy side most of the time when he and his partner were apart. Despite their age differences she really liked Justin – not only was he physically beautiful on the outside but also intelligent, well-spoken, and funny; in her opinion, he would be any gay man's catch, but she knew his heart had already been firmly lassoed by the man whose name seemed to come up frequently in conversations between the two of them. The two men standing in her gallery would certainly have made a striking couple – one blond and pale, the other dark and brooding, but she realized that wasn't going to happen, not unless she wanted to be known as a home wrecker. Which led to the reason why the three of them were meeting here in the first place...

She looked over at Justin with a smile as she explained, "Maarten just moved here from Amsterdam to join his partner in his Manhattan law firm; they're both attorneys. He wants to give him a special gift for Christmas and I told him you were perfect for the job."

_Aha. _Justin internally slapped himself over his impression that the man was trying to hit on him; _now_ he understood what he needed. He smiled in pleasure at the thought of a new commission until the rest of Tabitha's words sunk in. "Ohhh….You said for _Christmas_?"

Van Den Berg nodded apologetically. "I know….It's very short notice, Justin. Do you mind if I call you Justin?" When Justin shook his head, he continued. "But this opening for a junior attorney only became available last week, and I was so busy moving my things here that I'm just now trying to think of a special gift for Jacob; that's my partner. He's been so wonderful about going to bat for me at his law firm – going to bat, that is the right term, yes?" Justin nodded with a grin as Maarten continued. "He's been so great about getting me this job so we could finally be together here in America that I wanted to get him something unique for the holidays. I know it's a lot to ask, but it would mean so much to me – and to him. I'd like to commission you to paint a portrait of me that he could hang in our apartment. Do you think you could that in time for Christmas?"

Justin bit his lip in thought, mentally listing what all he would need to do before now and then to get that accomplished. He would have to get the necessary supplies, draw up some preliminary sketches, plus have the man sit for him several times if he wanted him to have it ready that quickly. "I would need for you to spend a lot of time with me in order to get it done by then; you just said you were starting a new job. Won't that take up a lot of your time?"

Maarten shook his head with a smile. "No…They don't want me to start until after the New Year so my salary doesn't affect their budget until then. I can be at your…how do you say it? Disposal; I can be at your disposal as much as you need."

Tabitha raised her eyebrows and looked at him in silent encouragement while Justin mulled it over. "What about your partner, Jacob?" he queried. "Won't he wonder why you're spending so much time away from him? You said it was a surprise gift – won't he get suspicious about what you're doing?"

Maarten shook his head and grinned. "No, I might not have to work but HE does. He's letting me remodel his penthouse as his gift to me, so it won't look weird if I'm away a lot in the next couple of weeks. He'll be at work most of the time anyway, and I can tell him I'm just doing some shopping for new furnishings if I have to; he won't suspect a thing."

Justin nodded, not missing the man's reference to a _penthouse;_ not only a penthouse, but if his partner lived in a MANHATTAN penthouse, the man must be doing quite well. He calculated in his mind what he still needed to do in the next few weeks before he was reunited with Brian back home. The two of them had arranged for Gus and his moms to visit them at Britin for Christmas; in a weak moment, Brian had even agreed to let his son's dog, Tricky (or Cujo as Brian liked to call him) come along as well. Of course, that had been after both of them had applied their own unique forms of persuasion on him. Gus had merely appeared during one of their weekly Skype calls, pleading with those big, brown, doe-eyes to let his dog come with them on their road trip to Britin, telling his father that he couldn't bear to be apart from 'his best friend' and put him in a cage somewhere, while Justin had simply withheld web sex from his partner for a few days until Brian finally cracked and, against his better judgment, muttered that _Tricky the Terrorist_ could come along, too; that was, as long as the dog stayed out of both his personal study as well as the bedroom.

Once Justin and he had resumed their daily long-distance sexual escapades, Brian had advised his partner that despite the animal's ability to perform so many tricks, the only living being who would be rolling over in _their_ bedroom would be him. Of course, Justin had an idea he wouldn't be the _only_ one performing that particular 'trick,' but he had had the intelligence and foresight not to bring that fact up right after he (and Gus) had gotten their way. It had been no small accomplishment getting Brian to agree to have the rambunctious yellow lab stay at Britin, so Justin figured he'd better not push his luck.

He broke out of his musing to notice Van Den Berg and Tabitha staring at him expectantly as he realized that he had been daydreaming. He smiled at them apologetically. "I'm sorry – I was thinking about something else for a minute and trying to figure out if I had enough time to fulfill your request before going back home for the holidays. I imagine Tabitha has told you what a perfectionist I am, so I would want to make sure I have adequate time to complete it before Christmas. And I imagine you would want me to have it framed, also, since it will be a gift."

Maarten nodded firmly, impressed with the artist's conscientiousness. "Yes to both questions. You're exactly the kind of artist I want, Justin. Tabitha showed me several of the portraits you've done; they're exquisite and precisely the type of style I'm looking for. Please tell me you'll do it – I'll make sure you're well compensated for the all the time it will take. Oh – and there _is_ one thing I should probably tell you – I would like for you to paint the portrait with Jacob's penthouse in the background; he's got a wonderful view of the Manhattan skyline and I think having it done there would make it even more special for him. Could you do that?"

Justin pondered that particular condition; he certainly wouldn't mind having the rare opportunity of seeing the inside of a Manhattan penthouse, but the logistics of transporting all of his painting supplies several miles away wasn't going to be easy, not by bus or subway anyway. He hesitated as he told the other man, "I don't know, Maarten. I'm certainly open to using whatever setting you want, but it would be pretty difficult to carry what I need over there using public transportation." Thoughts of other riders jostling all his paint and canvases around on the subway, particularly, made him cringe slightly.

"Oh, no!" Maarten reassured him as he looked at him almost aghast. "I wouldn't _expect_ you to do that! I would send a car to come and pick you for each session with me. Please say you'll do it, Justin. I would see that you are paid handsomely for all your time and trouble."

Justin looked over at his mentor, who nodded encouragingly as a signal for him to do it; knowing Tabitha, that probably meant that she and Van Den Berg had already discussed the financial terms and they were quite acceptable, considering that Tabitha received a percentage of whatever commission Justin received through her intervention.

He turned his attention back to their visitor and finally nodded; perhaps this would be a good way to keep his mind off someone else who tended to occupy so much of his thoughts. "Okay," he told Maarten. "If I devote enough time to it, I'm sure I can have it ready for you before Christmas."

"Wonderful!" Maarten cried out in delight as he clapped Justin lightly on the back. "I can't tell you how much this means to me, and I'm sure Jacob will be very happy with it! Can we start tomorrow then?"

Justin smiled. _Why not_? "Sure – what time? I would say the earlier the better, because it will take me some time to get set up and I need to study the space to obtain the right lighting for my work. Plus you need to tell me more about what sort of pose you want me to paint for you."

Maarten nodded. "That's fine. I can send the car to pick you up at 8:00? Jacob leaves for the office at 7:30, so the driver should be able to pick you up right after he drops him off. I'm sure I can swear Alfred – that's his driver – to secrecy once I tell him the reason why."

Justin nodded. "I'll be ready tomorrow at eight, then." He looked around for one of Tabitha's business cards on her desk and hurriedly wrote the address down to his apartment before handing it to the other man.

"Wonderful!" Maarten responded as he pocketed the information and the two men shook hands again. I'll be looking forward to seeing you tomorrow morning, then."

Justin nodded as he watched the handsome man gracefully stride from the room, never suspecting that this latest art assignment was going to bring him much more than he ever bargained for.

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><p><em>AN: Would love to hear what you think.:) Thanks to Boriqua522 for looking this over for me!:)_


	2. Ma Bell Never Thought About This!

_This chapter's mainly smut, people, I won't lie - pure (well, you know what I mean), unadulterated PWP for our boys until they can be together again. Hope you enjoy it.:)_

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><p><em>11:00 p.m. – Justin's apartment <em>

Justin lay in bed, sleep an elusive commodity; his mind was still focused on his new assignment starting tomorrow morning. Of course, he always felt this way whenever he was about to commence with a new piece. It was the element of the unknown, the uncertainty of what was expected of him and what he expected of himself. Until he could see the setting in which Maarten wanted him to work, and until he could get a better idea of what sort of portrait he wanted, he knew his mind would be unsettled.

But that wasn't the only reason why he was awake and his mind was racing; the other reason was that he was waiting for his daily web cam visit from a certain sexy brunet who consistently called about this time every night. Justin always found it difficult to fall asleep without his partner's long, muscular body spooned up against his; the only way he could find their present circumstances even remotely tolerable, especially since they had been monogamous for some time now, was having his sexual frustration temporarily alleviated by the webcam calls they participated in each evening. It wasn't nearly as satisfying as the real thing – nothing could ever match that – but at least it kept the edge off until they could be together again. And soon, very soon, that dream would become a reality when he moved back to Britin for good.

He smiled as he heard the familiar chime on his laptop indicating an incoming Skype call. Reaching over to hit the 'answer' button, he was rewarded with a full-length view of his magnificent partner lying stretched out on the king-sized, massive, dark-wood bed in the master bedroom at Britin; much like him, Brian was lying unclothed in the semi-darkness, his legs crossed at the ankles as he took a drag from his cigarette before drawling, "Stud to Princess, do you copy?"

Justin snorted as he took a moment to admire the long, lean body; like most webcam calls, the resolution of the camera wasn't the greatest in the world, but it was good enough for him to yearn to reach out and touch that warm, taut flesh that he knew he would feel if he could be afforded the luxury. "Yes, Sir, my weapon is armed and cocked for action," he played along dutifully as he reached down and lazily stroked his dick which was hardening already simply at the velvety tone of his partner's voice.

"Hey, what did I tell you about starting without me?" Brian growled as he noticed what his partner was doing. _Little shit_. He quickly stubbed out the remainder of his cigarette into the nearby ashtray as he demanded, "Stop that," clenching the crumpled sheets on either side of his body with his hands as he tried to control his own desire to do the same thing, imagining it was his skillful lover doing it instead. Just the sight of his beautiful partner stroking that thick, plump cock that he loved to suck and lick on to distraction was making him crazy as hell. God, he wasn't sure if it was worse to NOT see Justin or to actually see what he was doing in his absence. It was such sweet torture!

Justin groaned as he reluctantly stilled his motions but kept his hand curled around his shaft, ready for further instruction.

"Good boy," Brian murmured huskily as he let out a deep breath to try and calm his rapidly beating heart. He took a moment to skim his gaze over the slender, pale body; in the soft glow of the computer screen, Justin looked almost ethereal, even angelic, although he knew his insatiable lover was far from that. "Fuck, I was thinking about you all day long," Brian admitted as he loosened his grip on the sheets to reach out with his own hands and slowly rub circles over his nipples, just like Justin would normally do until they were hard and pebbly. "I was imagining all sorts of things you would be doing with me tonight. Like the way you make me crazy by doing this." He closed his eyes for a moment as he continued to stroke the wrinkled nubs, now hard and stiff, trying desperately to dream Justin into his bed, to feel his talented, light caresses that always drove him to the edge.

Justin groaned as he watched his lover circle his nipples to harden them; it was so damn erotic and frustrating as hell at the same time. He wanted so badly to be the one doing it, touching that warm, muscled chest that he knew so well. "Brian…" he whispered. "Lower," he softly commanded. "Go lower. I want to feel your flat stomach, your hard skin, twist my fingers in your pubes, feel _all _of you."

Brian's eyes bored into the screen over at his partner as he kept one hand on his chest to slowly stroke a languid path down his breastbone as his other hand began a determined journey down his flat belly, lingering a moment there before getting caught momentarily in his pubes before it traveled down toward his cock.

Justin's breath hitched in his throat as he nodded. "Yes," he breathed out as curled his own hand around his dick, willing it to be Brian's skillful hand surrounding him. "Am I making you harder, Brian? Am I making you wet for me?"

Brian swallowed hard. "Fuck, Justin, yes, God, yes," he admitted as his thumb flicked itself across the precum glistening on his cock, begging for his lover's attention. "Your voice," he murmured as he stared at the screen and drunk in the sight of Justin's body, his hand curled around his own cock. "Shit, Justin, talk to me some more."

Justin nodded, never taking his eyes off the screen that was showing his magnificent lover who was starting to stroke himself with slow, sure motions now. "No," he corrected him. "I want you to take your fingers and lightly trail them up the underside of your cock with your fingernails, Brian; think of mine teasing you there, promising more to come; _much _more."

Brian closed his eyes and did as Justin asked, finding it so sensual when Justin took this sort of control. It was almost as if he were there, teasing him to exquisite heights of torture, only as he could do. "Yes," he whispered out. "Justin…"

"My other hand is moving down now to cup your balls and lightly squeeze them in my palm, Brian, feeling them heavy and full. Can you feel it? Can you feel my touch, my desire for you?"

"God, yes," Brian groaned as he took his other hand and cupped his balls, just like Justin would do if he were there. "What are you doing to me now?" he asked softly. "Tell me," he demanded in a ragged voice, his eyes still closed in a haze of pleasure.

Justin inhaled a shaky breath, feeling his own body starting to respond to the sexy, throaty tone of Brian's voice as he began to pick up the tempo of his own stroking; Brian in the midst of passion was a magnificent creature indeed and always made his own body quickly react in turn. He took his other hand and began to forcefully rub it over his left nipple and then his right, imagining Brian's talented hands and tongue making him crazy with need as they roamed all over his skin, the hot wetness like some sort of brand on his flesh. He moaned softly as he said, "My long hair is tickling your skin as I lean my head down so my lips can surround your cock. My hand is gripping the base of it as I hover over the tip, blowing on it and admiring how hard, purple and wet it is, just like I like it. Can you feel that, Brian? Can you see how much I fucking want to taste you, all of you right now?"

Brian merely nodded as a groan escaped his own lips and his hand sped up its motion on his cock, occasionally using his thumb again to flick across the sensitive tip which was now coated with the evidence of his desire. He kept his eyes closed, imagining the way that Justin's hair always made his muscles ripple as it brushed against his belly while he bent his blond, silky head and those plump, soft lips blew a taunting whisper of hot breath on his cock, right before the wetness surrounded him and he was lost to the sensation of Justin's talented mouth sucking on him. "Fuck, Justin, so fucking good," he murmured in appreciation, his strokes speeding up on his cock in pending culmination as he began to almost violently jerk his hard shaft, craving release.

"Yes," Justin urged his lover huskily in the near darkness, his eyes shining like two fiery beacons as he continued to stroke himself, his own pace picking up. "You can't hold out much longer, Brian. Your body is tightening up in anticipation and my lips are bobbing up and down faster and faster on your dick, my tongue swirling underneath as I relax my throat and wait for the delicious taste of you to burst forth."

"Justin…"

"Give me a taste, Brian. Give it to me now," he demanded huskily as Brian's body spasmed upward and he let out a vocal cry before he let forth with streams of his seed all over his belly and chest, his skin glistening with sweat and exertion as he finally flopped down on the bed.

A few seconds later, the sight of Brian's release was too much for Justin to handle as he followed with his own climax and arched his body upward and then flopped back down as he struggled for some much-needed air. He flung both of his hands out to his sides as he lay there like some fish out of water, gasping for breath and totally spent.

Brian did the same thing, throwing his hands out, palms up, as he waited for his body to try and return to a semblance of normalcy, his legs spread wide apart and feeling heavy as lead. He sighed, wanting so badly to feel Justin's smaller body on top of his after he had ridden his cock until he couldn't take it anymore, wanting so badly to wrap his hands around the slender back and slowly caress the pale, sweaty flesh, but he realized as he came back down to earth that his fervent wish would not be granted tonight. Instead, he would have to be content with turning his head to gaze into the beautiful man lying much the same way he was currently doing, finding Justin's eyes boring into his from the computer screen.

He curled one corner of his mouth up affectionately as he found his voice enough to say, "That was fucking hot."

Justin blushed, a little unused to being quite so demanding when it came to their phone sex but he couldn't help it; he had wanted him so damn much tonight. "Yeah," he agreed as he gazed into his partner's handsome face. Brian's hair was plastered at all angles to his sweaty head and in the soft light of the computer's glow he was so fucking gorgeous. It made him want to reach out and touch him so badly as he sighed heavily, knowing it wasn't going to happen – at least not yet.

"What?" Brian asked softly through the computer screen.

"I wish I could _really_ touch you right now," Justin admitted softly. "I miss you so fucking much."

Brian swallowed hard. "Yeah," he whispered back huskily as he nodded. "So do I." This nightly ritual with his partner was all that managed to keep him sane lately; his business had grown substantially over the past year since Justin had moved to New York, preventing him from seeing him as much as he would have hoped, and this had been the best way short of actually seeing each other in person that they could come up with to help ease their yearning for each other. At least now, though, there was definite hope that their separation was soon coming to an end. Justin had promised to move back to Britin permanently as soon as he could wrap up his remaining art projects with the gallery, and Brian was anxiously awaiting that day. He suspected when that day came he wouldn't let Justin out of their bed for a damn week; this newfangled version of phone sex was better than nothing but it was a long away from the real thing. "It won't be long now, though, right?" he added, unable to keep the hopefulness out of his voice.

Justin let out one more calming breath to come down from his high before he reassured him with a smile. "Yeah…I should have everything finished soon." He reached out with his left hand to place his fingertips on the screen longingly. "It can't come soon enough for me, even if you _did_ cheat with the wishbone at Thanksgiving to get what you wanted."

Brian curled his lips under. "I beg to correct you, Mr. Taylor; I think we both got we what we wanted that day," he pointed out, bringing his own hand up to the glass to meet Justin's until he lightly dropped it back down onto his chest, longing for the day he could clasp the warm, soft flesh again in his own. "When will you be coming home for Christmas? The sooner, the better; I'm not handling Cujo – and my son – on my own. You promised to help keep that mutt under control."

Justin dropped his own hand to his side with a grin. "Have Mel and Lindsay told you when they would be there?" They certainly had more than enough room for all of them to stay at Britin, although he wasn't sure how Brian was going to enjoy having Tricky underfoot again; apparently their relationship was akin to one of those geese that latched onto a human as their mother. Ever since Tricky had first laid eyes on Brian, it had been a case of pure idol worship, albeit of the one-sided variety.

Brian stared at the computer screen, unable to take his eyes off his intriguing partner; Justin was always beautiful, but a sweaty, tousled, flushed Justin in the throes of post-coital bliss was a sight to behold. "They're supposed to get here on Christmas Eve; after all, Santa has to have time to figure out where they are and bring all of Gus's presents to the right house. He's already told me he's worried about Santa not knowing where he is on Christmas Day."

Justin grinned. "I'm sure you reassured him that Santa knows everything, right?"

Brian smirked. "Now, Sunshine, you have to talk to kids in their own language so they understand. I just told him that Santa has the latest in GPS technology and will be able to find him that way, just like he'll be able to find J.R. at Mikey's house that night." Debbie had persuaded the girls to let Michael have his daughter for Christmas Eve so she, Carl, Michael, Ben and Hunter, who would be home on college break, could spend some time with her, along with the assurance that they would bring her out on Christmas Day to spend some time at Britin. Everyone, including the entire gang, was due to come out Christmas Day for a big dinner with all the trimmings, courtesy of Debbie, their favorite cook, and a little help from his partner, who still loved to tinker around in the kitchen when he had the time.

Justin smiled; he was looking forward so much to seeing everyone again, but especially Brian, of course. And soon he and Brian would be together all the time – that was going to be the best Christmas present of all. "That sounds great," he said. "Hey, by the way, I've got another commission; just got it today."

Brian frowned. "That's great, but you just got it _today_? Isn't that cutting a little short?" He knew Justin's habits well enough by now to know that his partner normally needed several weeks to complete a work from start to finish. He was afraid this new assignment would cause their permanent reunion to be delayed. Trying not to sound too overanxious, he added, "How long will it take you to finish it?"

Justin smiled, knowing exactly what he was asking; he wasn't fooled for a minute. "Don't worry, _Mr. Kinney_. I will be working overtime to make sure I get this last piece done before Christmas. I plan on being on your doorstop front and center by Christmas Eve."

Brian smiled, relieved that their plans weren't going to be disrupted. "You'd better, Picasso," he scolded him. "All of Ringling Brothers' animal trainers are booked up for the holidays."

Justin snorted. "He's not that bad, Brian! He just likes you; really, really likes you. Can you blame him?"

Brian shrugged. "Well, I do have a great deal of animal magnetism," he admitted as Justin rolled his eyes. "But I'd rather he find some other means of entertaining himself while he's here like chasing the barn cats outside in the snow. Or maybe I can find a sleigh to hitch him up to and he can cart Gus around in the backyard; we could even keep him in the stables at night. I rather like that idea."

Justin laughed. "You would. But you also know Gus would never go along with that." Brian's little boy and his dog were inseparable now and even slept together at night to Brian's consternation. "Don't forget – you promised Gus you'd take him ice skating on the pond to make up for not doing it up in Toronto," Justin reminded him as Brian groaned at the thought. Now he had _two_ things to 'look forward' to regarding his son's visit.

"Great," he muttered under his breath, not cherishing the idea of having his neck broken as a result. He _had_ promised him, though; he supposed he could manage it somehow, provided he had a bush or a tree or some large boulder to hold onto. Fortunately, most of his favorite activities didn't involve requiring a great deal of balance or equilibrium to pull them off; most of his 'extra-curricular' activities with Justin were done lying down or at least supported by something.

"Well, you just make sure you get that project done before Christmas Eve, Mr. Taylor," Brian told his partner. "And I expect you to maintain our nightly 'appointment' until you are back home with me."

Justin grinned. "I think I can arrange that," he assured him. "I didn't say I would be doing it 24/7. But I do start first thing in the morning. I'll tell you all about it when I get home later this month."

Brian nodded, satisfied. "Well, I guess I'd better let you get some sleep, then," he said reluctantly, sorry as usual to have to say goodbye to his partner. He missed him so fucking much, more and more each day, but it was tempered by the fact that he knew soon it would be in the past and they could look forward to making love each night, every night, with no barriers of any kind between them. "I'll see you tomorrow, same time, same Bat channel," he quipped. "Same type of apparel, too – or lack thereof."

Justin giggled. "I think I can handle that," he whispered back, his face dissolving into something more tender. "I can't wait to see you," he told his lover. "And be back home for good."

Brian gazed over at the screen and nodded. "Yeah, Sunshine, me, too." Once more he reached over and placed his hand on the computer screen, splaying his fingers out as Justin reached over from his bed and did the same until they were overlapping each other virtually.

"Good night, then," Justin told him softly. "I'll see you tomorrow night."

Brian nodded with a tender smile. "Yeah, count on it. Just make sure in the meantime you don't fuck anyone else in your sleep, okay?"

Justin smiled one of his trademark smiles, always loving it when Brian said something oddly romantic; not that he would ever say something overtly mushy, but he still had a way of getting his point across nonetheless. "I'll try to keep my dick away from any foreign objects," he kidded him. "Later," he whispered as he dropped his hand to the mattress, keeping his eyes on his partner's body on the screen.

Brian nodded with a boyish smile. "Later, Sunshine," he murmured drowsily; his and Justin's nightly ritual always tended to leave him feeling that way, but it was a good feeling.

A few seconds later, the connection was broken as Justin shut down his computer and lay back on the bed with a sigh. He couldn't wait until they were together again – it couldn't come soon enough for him.

"I love you, Brian Kinney," he whispered in the dark as he slowly closed his eyes and dreamed delicious thoughts of their eventual reunion.

Their conversation ended, Brian fell back onto the bed, lying on his back once more as he gazed up at the ceiling, hoping somehow that the Ghost of Christmas Present would bring him his most desired gift of all – his beautiful partner that he loved so deeply; but his hope was dashed as the room remained eerily silent except for the soft tick-tock of a nearby wall clock. He reached over toward the extra pillow lying next to his head and, as he had done several times before, brought it up to his nose to inhale what remained of Justin's shampoo still lingering on the satin fabric, both relishing as well as mourning the unique smell. Clutching the pillow to his bare chest, he held it tightly against him as he turned on his side and finally fell asleep, dreaming of the eventual day that his lover would be once more lying spooned next to him.


	3. Baring Your Soul  And Something Else

_Justin realizes he misunderstood his new assignment; he and Maarten find some common ground upon which to bond._

* * *

><p><em>Next Day – 7:50 a.m.<em>

Justin stood just inside the lobby of his apartment building, peering through the half-glass door and out onto the slushy street a few feet below. His stomach felt a little queasy and his hands were clammy, common for him when he was starting on a new project. It was always exciting but also nerve wracking in a way. This one sounded like it was going to be quite interesting; certainly it was different from any other project he had undertaken. It wasn't that he hadn't done several portraits before in oil, acrylic and pencil, but this would be the first time someone had offered to escort him to the location where he would be working.

He hefted his art portfolio onto his shoulder and grabbed his gym-size bag of supplies as he noticed a long, sleek, black Mercedes limousine slowing down to the curb at precisely 8:00. His eyes widened; when Maarten had mentioned sending a 'car' to pick him up, he hadn't quite expected something this grand. _Wow_, he thought with amazement as a distinguished, older man wearing a black uniform, matching black hat and a deep-red tie and black silk shirt emerged from the driver's side door and gracefully walked around to open the back passenger door, gazing up at the front of Justin's apartment building expectantly. Swallowing his surprise, Justin opened the door as the man peered up at him and smiled politely.

"Mr. Taylor?" Justin nodded as the man saluted him with a tip of his cap. "My name is Alfred, Sir," the salt-and-pepper haired man informed him with a distinct British accent. "Mr. Van Den Berg is expecting you at the penthouse. If you would be so kind, Sir, shall we be on our way?" he asked as he gave a wave of his hand toward the car's interior.

Justin nodded again with a nervous smile as he stooped down and entered the spacious interior of the limousine before Alfred closed the door behind him. "Holy shit," Justin mumbled as he looked around the inside of the vehicle, which looked more like the size of a 747 than a passenger vehicle. He had been inside a few limousines before – once when he and Brian had been driven to the rehearsal dinner for their eventual non-wedding, and a few times to attend gallery openings for his art work, usually hitching a ride with Tabitha who footed the bill. But this one beat them all hands down in terms of its luxurious appointments and modern design. There was a full-sized bar on the opposite side of the limo that rivaled a small-size version of Babylon's bar; crystal stemmed glasses were hanging upside down under a shelf that held several bottles of expensive liquors, and a flat-screen television was mounted into a crevice built near the ceiling that was currently broadcasting CNN's morning news show. Large, square-shaped windows allowed the bright sunlight to pour in on the buttery-colored, leather seats and the interior was trimmed with rich tones of polished burl walnut. He let out a shaky breath as he leaned back into the seat, wondering if the limo looked this opulent what the penthouse must look like. He couldn't imagine being driven to work each day in something like this; hell, he couldn't imagine being driven to work at all, especially in New York City where parking was at such a premium and the traffic was abominable. Apparently Van Den Berg and his partner must be doing well indeed.

Approximately 15 minutes later, the limo pulled up in front of a tall apartment building in the Chelsea part of the city, a few blocks away from Manhattan proper; as Alfred stopped the car and Justin stepped out of the limo he craned his neck upward curiously, knowing he would be working on the top floor. There appeared to be at least twenty floors to the building, which was a cream-colored brick structure, traditional in appearance but with tall, narrow floor-to-ceiling windows interspersed generously on each floor. He wondered what the interior would be like as he heard Alfred clear his throat from behind, realizing he had been lingering a little too long on studying the structure. Sheepishly he turned to find the man holding his portfolio and duffel bag in his hands.

"Your equipment, Mr. Taylor," he intoned evenly as Justin nodded his gratitude before retrieving it from him. "Mr. Van Den Berg is expecting you. You will find a directory to the left in the lobby – just press the button for the penthouse and he will grant you access to that floor."

Justin licked his lips to wet them and watched the man tip his cap one more time before shutting the passenger door and walking around to the driver's side to get in. A few seconds later, the vehicle slowly crawled back out into the residential traffic as Justin turned to enter the building.

As soon as he entered through the revolving door, he noticed the directory of tenants on the left, just where Alfred had indicated they would be, along with a circular, polished wood concierge/security desk situated against the far wall. A man in a black security uniform and wearing some sort of official-looking badge was eyeing him intently, no doubt wondering why a wisp of a man, wearing worn jeans, a paint-spattered denim shirt, and sneakers was loitering around the lobby of such a well-heeled apartment building. Justin nodded at him in acknowledgement, trying to appear confident as he turned and pressed the button for the penthouse – noting ironically the initials "J.T." that were printed in raised gold letters next to it; Maarten hadn't mentioned his partner's last name yesterday. He smirked, realizing the odds of those initials ever belonging to him in context to owing a penthouse were slim to none. Not that he really wanted them, anyway; Britin was more than adequate enough for his needs; anywhere was home, actually, as long as Brian was there with him.

He heard a slight crackling through the speaker before a voice he recognized asked, "Justin?"

"Yes, it's me."

"Good; you're punctual," Maarten responded. "I like that in an artist. I've released the elevator to the penthouse so you should be able to access it. The elevators are a little ways down on the left-hand side of the lobby. Jacob's place is the only one on the 22nd floor. I'll be waiting for you."

Justin swallowed, his nerves still a little on edge. He hadn't sensed any duplicity or reason for caution yesterday when he had agreed to meet Maarten here at his partner's penthouse, but now that he was actually here and about to be alone with him, he was feeling a little apprehensive; he knew practically nothing about the man, other than what he had told him yesterday. Nevertheless, though, he had agreed to do it and he needed the money for moving expenses. "Okay," he told the other man. "I'll be right there." Picking up his equipment, he shuffled over toward the left side of the lobby, noticing a small hallway running off from the main room. Turning left as he got to it, he found three sets of elevator doors, two with the standard up and down arrow indicators and one, at the end, merely displaying a button with "PH" etched above it. Pressing the button for that one, he heard the whoosh of a car being released for descent and a few seconds later there was a soft ding above the doors as the elevator car came to a stop. Taking a deep breath as the doors slid open, he quickly entered as the sole occupant and stood with his back against the rear of the car as the doors closed and it began to slowly lift upward toward the top floor. He had a few moments to study the inside of the car and collect himself; it was gilded in gold leaf around the top corners and around the control framel A round, polished pole made of what appeared to be brass was attached to the rear wall. He leaned against it, partly for support as well as to calm his nerves, as he watched the red LED numbers tick off above the door: 2…3…5…10..17, until finally 22 appeared and the car slowly came to a complete stop. He gathered up his duffel bag and portfolio just in time for the chime to sound and the doors to open. As he walked out, he was momentarily confused where to go until he noticed a lone door down the hallway to his right. Walking down a gleaming, black-and-white checkered marble hallway, he slowed down at a door marked "22PH" and raised his hand to knock three times.

A few seconds later, he heard footsteps approaching and the sound of the door opening. Maarten greeted him with a wide smile, wearing a V-necked, dark gray cashmere sweater that highlighted the brightness of his deep blue eyes and a pair of form-fitting, black linen slacks; Justin was a little surprised to see him in bare feet, reminding him of another handsome man's typical habit back home. The thought made him smile a little as the other man entreated, "Justin! Come in!" His host opened the door wider and swept his hand back gregariously to allow him more room. He stood aside as Justin walked in and immediately fixed his gaze on the multitude of artwork scattered throughout the space.

They entered into an open, two-story living room with a wall of windows on two sides; one faced the Hudson River sky line, while the other opened up into a large, rooftop garden. Massive, floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lined a third wall and showcased a contemporary art piece displayed inside one of the wider, center bookshelves that framed it perfectly. There were several pedestals scattered throughout the room with sleek, curved sculptures displaying various poses of the human body, either alone or embracing a companion. Various other paintings, some of whose artists Justin recognized and some of which he did not, were interspersed throughout the massive room, along with contemporary, modern furniture that reminded Justin of the loft. He took a few moments to appreciate the clean, fresh lines of the room as Maarten stood nearby, used to the attention the space always garnered whenever he and his partner had company for the first time.

Justin finally turned to look at his host with an incredulous look on his face. This had to be the most outrageously expensive apartment he had ever seen, yet the overall effect wasn't too overly pretentious or gaudy, but elegant and tasteful. "Maarten…This is amazing," he murmured as he swept his gaze around the room to try and absorb everything. Of course, the first thing he had honed in on the moment he had entered the room after the artwork was the abundant amount of light pouring in through the two glass walls of windows. He had hoped that with it being a penthouse that there might be a good deal of light that was allowed inside, but he could never have imagined the way the residence was practically sparkling with it; the clean lines of the room gleamed in the sunlight as it bathed the space in tones of light and shadow. It would have made a perfect environment for a studio – that is, if anyone could afford to use it for that. "Your partner has a beautiful place here," he raved to his host, who beamed in response.

Maarten nodded with a smile. "Yes, it is wonderful, is it not? I'm very lucky to have such a great partner. Jacob was lucky, too, though," he told Justin. "His father owned this penthouse before him and left it to him in his will. His father was a very well-known entrepreneur in town and Jacob was an only child, so everything went to him after some charitable contributions were made."

Justin nodded, still astounded by the size and open design of the apartment; he figured his entire apartment could pretty much fit within the confines of their living room alone. "It is incredible," he told his client with a smile. "I've never quite seen anything so grand in my life." _Except for Britin,_ he couldn't help thinking as his thoughts momentarily strayed to his partner back home. While this was more of a cosmopolitan opulence, however, Britin was more stately and majestic, but it _did_ hold something very special that this place never could.

Maarten nodded as he noticed Justin fidgeting a little awkwardly. "Please – I am being a bad host. May I get you some coffee to drink before we get started? I could have the concierge bring you up some breakfast, also, if you haven't eaten yet."

Justin shook his head to decline as he brought his attention back to the present. "No…Thank you. I've already eaten. I'd rather get started, if that's okay with you, since we're so short on time."

Maarten nodded. "Of course." He noticed Justin's bags and advised him, "You can put your equipment down anywhere you like for now until you decide where it would be best to paint my portrait."

Justin nodded with a smile as he softly slid the portfolio from his shoulder and placed it down along with his duffel bag by a modern-looking, cream-colored chair with dark, contrasting pillows of various earth tones. He was delighted to notice the way the light was shining in so profusely; he knew that Maarten had expressed a preference for having his portrait done with the skyline as a backdrop and he had been afraid the light would have been blinding him from behind. He was glad, then, to see that the light would be coming in from an angle, just perfect for painting his subject with the sky line behind him just like he had desired. He lifted his hands to create a "U" shape, his thumbs touching together like a movie director would to gauge the best position for his subject. He glanced over at Maarten a few feet away who was eyeing him curiously, never having seen an artist at work before. "Do you still want me to paint you against the skyline?" he inquired of his new acquaintance.

Maarten nodded. 'Yes. This is Jacob's favorite room because of the view; at night when all the lights are blinking behind it, it's simply breathtaking." He sighed. "It's a shame you won't have the opportunity to paint me at night; it's so beautiful then and the best part of the day. It's very peaceful up here and relaxing. We really look forward to the time when we can be alone each evening."

"But you'll be working at the same law firm soon," Justin pointed out as he began to pull his sketchpad and board out of his portfolio along with his box of drawing pencils in preparation for getting started.

Maarten smiled. "Yes, we will; but it's such a large firm that we will have to work on different floors. We will still be able to see each other off and on during the day, though, and hopefully eat our lunch together. That will be a nice – _how do you say it_? Perk? That will be a nice perk for my new job. But we still really enjoy nighttime the most when we can sit on the couch here and relax with our drinks while we watch the sun go down and all the lights appear around us; it's such a magical part of our day."

Justin nodded in understanding, suddenly feeling a little sentimental and homesick over his and Brian's separation. He couldn't wait to be reunited with him permanently; he missed evenings with him most of all himself. Brian's loft or Britin didn't have nearly the killer view that Jacob and Maarten did, but it didn't matter – just being with Brian at the end of the day, discussing each other's concerns and feelings as their cares faded away while they relished being in each other's company, was total nirvana for him. And it went without saying how much he yearned each night to feel Brian's arms around him after they had made love and he had started to fall asleep, instead of feeling nothing but emptiness like he did now.

"You're very lucky," he told Maarten wistfully. "My partner and I are living apart right now," he disclosed to him, not sure why he was telling a virtual stranger this, but somehow he felt compelled to do so anyway.

Maarten smiled knowingly, a gleam in his eyes. "Ah…Would that be the very handsome man whose image you have captured so distinctly in so many of your works?"

Justin blushed, remembering that Maarten had told him he had been studying some of his other drawings and paintings before deciding to choose him. It wasn't that he was embarrassed over others admiring his stunning partner on the canvas; if he was, the last thing he would be doing was displaying him in the flesh (literally) for so many others to see. But he still felt humble when it came to his work and to the accolades that seemed to follow him.

"Yeah," he told the other man with a smile. "That's Brian."

Maarten tried the name on for size. "Brian. Yes, he looks like a Brian; very masculine and brooding, dominating in a strong, commanding sort of way." He took a moment to stare over at Justin, a little longer than the blond found comfortable as he squirmed a little at the attention. "Like sun and darkness or land and sea; both totally different but both needing each other in order to survive."

Justin smiled warmly at the observation and nodded. He liked that comparison; it fit them well. He let out a breath before stating, "Well, if you're ready, then, I'll get set up."

Maarten, however, wasn't quite prepared to let the topic drop entirely, his inquisitive nature as an attorney coming into play. "So why do you live apart if he is your partner? With Jacob and me, it was an issue of getting the proper authorization for me to live here. We met at an overseas legal seminar and fell in love first before we figured out the logistics later. But you both live here in the States, yes? You're not separated in a bad way, I hope?"

Justin shook his head as he flipped open his sketchbook to an empty page; like all his others, this one was lovingly worn through several uses, as were his pencils. "No. He lives in Pittsburgh, where I grew up. Well, he _works_ in Pittsburgh and has an apartment there that he uses from time to time. He actually lives about twenty minutes away now in West Virginia." Justin bit his lip, trying hard not to think about Brian being at Britin alone without him. He knew their time apart was coming to an end but it still didn't make their separation that much easier. He looked over at Maarten, who was still looking at him intently and explained, "I moved here several months ago to advance my art career, but Brian couldn't join me because of his business." He held up one of his pencils in mid-air as he turned to look over at Maarten to explain, "We've been conducting what I guess you would call a long-distance commuting relationship ever since, but I'm planning on moving back soon, probably within the next couple of months. This arrangement of being apart is for shit," he admitted frankly. "In fact, I fucking hate it and so does Brian. I decided I could paint anywhere, so I'm going back home just as soon as I'm able to."

Maarten smiled. "Ahh…I know only too well how the heart aches when you are not with the man that you love."

Justin nodded, realizing that was true; they both certainly had that in common, but Maarten had gotten his wish and he hadn't, at least not yet. "Well, until then I'm going home to spend Christmas with him and some family and friends of ours. That's why I wasn't certain I could accept your request to do your portrait."

Maarten nodded. "I understand. Christmas is a time to be together with the ones you love." He smiled. "I'm glad, though, that you decided to accept. You must meet Jacob before you leave. He's a very handsome man, too, so we have that in common as well."

Justin nodded with a soft laugh. "I'd like that."

Maarten noticed Justin bouncing on his feet lightly in restlessness and told him apologetically, "I'm sorry; I know now why you want to make sure you get this finished as soon as possible, and I'm taking up more of your time. Why don't you take a look around and see where it would be best for you to do your work? If you will excuse me, I will be right back and we can get started."

Justin nodded gratefully. "That'd be great; thanks." He watched as the other man ambled out of the open room and down a hallway toward the other end of the penthouse, presumably to change into the outfit he wanted to wear for his portrait, before Justin turned back around once more to admire the impressive residence. He swept his eyes around the room analytically to determine the best location in which to draw his subject. He knew that Maarten wanted the skyline as a backdrop, so he concentrated on the wall facing out onto the Hudson River and the many buildings dotting the landscape; they were of various heights and shapes, some modern in design while others were more traditional and older, reflecting the mixed heritage of the bustling city. He could certainly imagine how all the buildings would be lit up like a Christmas tree at night; it _was _a shame that he wouldn't be able to see it, but he knew their schedule wouldn't allow it, especially if this was intended to be a surprise for Maarten's partner. He finally settled on placing the other man on a modern, sleek-looking cream-colored couch that was situated with its back against the windows before he went to work setting up his portable easel several feet away. The light at this time of day, particularly, would be perfect for his sketching. He would draw several preliminary sketches today, and then bring his paints and canvas with him tomorrow so he could start on the actual painting. When it came to portraits, he liked to show the sketches to his client first and let them pick which one was their favorite before using it as his final prototype for the painting. Flipping to a blank page in his sketchbook, he clipped it to his sketching board and laid it against the easel, reaching inside an outer pouch of his portfolio and taking out three of his sharpened pencils to lay them down on the lip. He didn't hear Maarten returning to the living room until he heard his name being softly called, which didn't surprise him since he knew the man had been barefooted.

What _did_ surprise him, however, was that not only was Maarten not wearing any shoes, he wasn't wearing anything else, either. His eyes widened and, despite his firm commitment toward his partner, he couldn't help taking a moment to admire another part of the scenery in the room – the tall, lean, muscular and toned body of his next art subject. He had underestimated Maarten's fitness level; the man did not appear to have an ounce of fat on his body. Every pectoral muscle was clearly defined, his stomach was impossibly flat, and his waist was trim, setting off the never-ending, long legs that flowed down to the ground. He tried hard not to look at another particular part of the man's anatomy, but it was too late; it was practically begging for scrutiny as his eyes flicked downward for a moment to linger there and admire one of the man's best features. His cock seemed to be about the same length as Brian's and was set off by a perfect-looking triangle of dark-brown pubes. He damned his own body's reaction as he felt his own cock stirring in response, but he couldn't help it – he was in love with Brian, but then again, he wasn't dead, either.

Up until now, if you didn't count art school, Brian had been the only man he had ever painted nude, other than that horrible, temporary time with Ethan the cheater; now he knew the reason why. He may not be a 17-year-old twink anymore, but apparently his cock didn't know that yet. "Uh…" he wasn't even sure what he was going to say as he nervously licked his suddenly dry lips. "Maarten," he croaked out tentatively. "I…I wasn't expecting…"

The other man frowned for a moment before he opened his mouth in understanding. "Oh…I'm sorry, Justin! I thought you realized when I mentioned that I had seen your drawings of Brian that I wanted you to paint a nude portrait of me, also. Tabitha didn't tell you?"

Justin shook his head as he forced his eyes upward in a modicum of decency to meet his host's directly, secretly deciding he would kill Tabitha the next time he saw her. "No, she didn't," he told him. "I had no idea." He turned his head away to look at the skyline, his heart beating fast. He did find the other man attractive – who wouldn't? But he _loved_ Brian and he knew nothing would come of this, nothing _could_ come of this; it wasn't worth it. Besides, this was business, and the man had his own partner that he loved.

"Is this going to be a problem for you?" Maarten asked with concern. "I really like your work, Justin, and I know Jacob would love the end result." He blushed now as he said, "It's always been one of his fantasies – to have me painted in the nude and hang me in his bedroom as he puts it." He laughed; an infectious sort of chuckle, Justin thought, as he added, "Before I received permission to come here to the States, he was always kidding me on the phone that until he was able to have me hung here in the flesh, he could at least have me hung in oil. It always made me feel like he was describing a sardine, though, instead of his lover."

Justin had to laugh at that statement as he took a deep breath to steady himself – and to will his own rebellious body to relax – before he turned back to gaze over at the other man. It was obvious that Maarten loved his partner as much as he loved Brian. He was a professional, and it wasn't like he hadn't painted someone in the nude before. _Yeah…Brian_; ONLY _Brian; Ethan doesn't count anymore_. Of course, he didn't really need to look at Brian to paint him that way; he had made love so many times by now with the man and seen Brian walk around Britin and the loft so many times before without a stitch of clothing on that he had every inch of the man's glorious body forever etched in his memory. But he liked Maarten, and he could definitely use the extra- generous amount of money it would bring him to help him move back to Britin for good.

His decision made, he shook his head and smiled over at him in reassurance. "No, it's fine; you just took me by surprise, that's all. Ready to get started, then?"

Maarten smiled in relief. "I'm so glad!" he told Justin as he walked closer. "Where shall I pose for you?"

Justin looked over at the couch. "I thought over there," he told him. "That way I can capture the skyline that he wanted. Is there a particular type of pose you think he would like best?"

Maarten pondered that question; it wasn't exactly one that came up every day, but he had given it some thought. "Well…He always does say what a wonderful backside I have," he admitted with just a little embarrassment. "He really likes my ass and the curve of my back. Perhaps a pose that might emphasis those parts, then?"

Justin had to grin at that statement; his partner wasn't the _only_ one who was an ass man. "Sure," he said congenially. "But I can also do a few front sketches, too, just in case. I normally sketch several and then meet with the client to decide which one they prefer best. Is that all right with you?"

Maarten nodded enthusiastically. "You're the artist," he said with a smile as he began to walk over toward the couch. "Just tell me what you want me to do."

Justin swallowed hard, still finding it a little hard to be sketching such a handsome man in the nude and not being the least affected by it. But he reminded himself that this was business, and Maarten was the subject that he was commissioned to paint, nothing more, nothing less. "Wait," He told him just before the other man was about to sit down; he had spied a silky-looking, maroon-colored throw placed over the back of a matching chair nearby and his artist sense immediately told him that the color would complement his subject's lighter skin tone perfectly; the cream color of the sofa had been a concern of his that it would wash his complexion out. "Don't sit down yet," He advised him as he walked over to retrieve the throw. Returning to the couch, Justin casually draped it over the front and back of the piece of furniture, adjusting it slightly so that it effectively covered the couch's actual color with the darker hue.

He nodded at Maarten in satisfaction, explaining, "I wanted to use your couch, but I thought the light color wouldn't be dramatic enough against your skin tone. This will be perfect."

Maarten nodded in understanding as he tentatively sat down with his back against the couch, his long legs easily touching the cold, hardwood floor as he crossed them at the ankles a little awkwardly, unaccustomed to having to think about how he sat. Justin walked backward, his artist's eye studying his posture like a scientist examining his latest formula. He thought it seemed too staged, too stiff, as he frowned. "No," he told his subject. "You look too rigid, too…_posed_," he told him with a smile. "Your shoulders are tense. You need to relax."

Maarten nodded, trying to comprehend what Justin wanted. He leaned his upper body back against the coolness of the throw, arching his neck a little as his head curved back against the rear of the couch. His body almost subconsciously relaxed as he unhooked his ankles and his legs spread themselves apart a little more, exposing more of his cock.

"Close your eyes," Justin said with a smile. "Yes…that's good," he encouraged him as Maarten did as he was asked and closed his eyes. "Don't move until I tell you to," Justin told him as he quickly walked back over to his easel and grabbed one of the graphite pencils to begin eagerly sketching the handsome man in his state of easy repose. Soon he was lost in a world of his own as his hands flew over the paper in a bid to capture every curve and angle of the subject in front of him, the fact that a stunningly handsome-looking specimen of man was sitting there in resplendent glory pushed aside as he focused on accurately capturing his image.

Finally, after several minutes, he put his pencil down and stood back a few feet to examine his work. He nodded in satisfaction, pleased with the preliminary result. "Okay," he told Maarten. "You can move now."

Maarten opened his eyes and groaned, his body stiff due to having to sit absolutely still for so long. He stretched his upper body by reaching his muscular arms high above his head and sighed in pleasure at the sensation. "Did you finish?" he asked Justin curiously.

Justin smiled. "Enough to finish it up back at my apartment. Let's try another pose now, okay?"

Maarten nodded, dying to see what Justin had done but knowing they needed to keep working. "Sure. What now?"

Justin bit his lip as he considered what he wanted the next pose to look like. "Well, you mentioned that he liked your back and your ass," he said almost clinically, trying hard to stay objective despite the sexy man posing for him. "How about you recline on the couch and lie on your side with your back toward me?" Maarten nodded as he swung his legs up onto the couch and lay down on his side.

"Put your elbow up to brace your head," Justin instructed him as he quickly tore off another sheet from his sketchbook to begin anew. "And bend your knees so your legs aren't lying flat on the couch." Justin again picked up his graphite pencil as it flew over the page; when he was so intent on his work, it was almost as if he were in a trance, everything else fading away so it was only him and his subject.

Once more after several minutes he let Maarten take a short break while he determined another pose for him. This time, he kept him with his back turned toward him, but he had him sitting up this time, his legs casually draped over the side of the couch as they rested on a low step stool that Justin had found in the kitchen. He smiled, liking the effect that this pose had on his subject's musculature and the way it showcased his rippling muscles. This would be the pose he would select if it were up to him, but ultimately it would be Maarten who would decide what his partner would like best.

* * *

><p><em>1:00 p.m. – Penthouse's Kitchen<em>

Wearing his jeans now and casually parading around the kitchen like a version of someone else he knew, Justin watched with a smile despite his pain as Maarten returned with a couple of cold cut sandwiches and some mugs of tomato soup; the other man placed one set down in front of him before joining him at the glass-topped table. Maarten had insisted that they take a lunch break for a while when he had noticed Justin gripping his right hand in his left, asking him if he was all right.

Justin had glossed over it then, telling him his hand was just a little fatigued and cramped after sketching for so long; he really hated having to explain why it got that way now, even after all this time. The fact that it did filled him with both dismay but also resignation that what had happened to him so long ago would never go away permanently, but he chose not to dwell on it. There were so many other things he was thankful for that it normally wasn't even worth giving it a second thought; that is, until his hand began to throb from overuse and he couldn't ignore it. Normally he would call for a break himself before it became that painful, but between him and Maarten talking to each other as he sketched, and his determination to get this project done before Christmas, he hadn't realized how long he had been working without a respite until his hand began to tell him in the most unpleasant of terms. So when Maarten had suggested they break for lunch, he was both grateful as well as relieved.

As he lifted the mug to take a sip of his soup, his hand almost gave out when it spasmed and he quickly placed the mug back down on the surface of the table, the action creating a loud clunk as he did so. He slid his hand under the table as he gripped it once more, massaging it like Brian normally did to try and quell the throbbing he felt as his face scrunched up slightly in discomfort, not wanting to make a big deal out of it in front of the other man. _Damn it…_

His actions did not go unnoticed by his dining companion,however. "Justin? Your hand is still bothering you? I fear I have been very inconsiderate in my haste to get this present finished for Jacob. Perhaps we should stop and resume this tomorrow morning."

But Justin shook his head firmly, just stubborn enough to want to work through the pain if necessary because he wanted to finish this as much as Maarten did but for a different reason. "No, it'll be okay in a few minutes," he insisted. "I'll be fine, really." To try and prove his point, he used his left hand to raise the sandwich to his lips and take a bite as he nodded with a slight smile over at Maarten, but he didn't dare try again to take a sip of his soup, afraid that until the pain in his hand eased he would drop it.

He noticed Maarten watching him intently and looking into his eyes before the man said, "This is common in artists, no?"

Justin sighed; he felt like he and Maarten were kindred spirits in a way and didn't feel the need to lie about it. "No," he told him as he placed the sandwich back down on the plate as his companion did the same, his own lunch seemingly ignored for now. "Well, what I mean is, you can experience some stiffness and discomfort if you draw or paint for a long time and don't take periodic breaks. But that's not why my hand is bothering me so badly."

For the next few minutes, Justin proceeded to describe in succinct detail just why his hand continued to affect him to the extent that it did as Maarten's eyes narrowed in disgust. By the time he had finished, though, he felt a lot better, both in spirit as well as in body as the pain in his hand began to ease somewhat.

"Unbelievable!" Maarten remarked with a scowl, his face creased with righteous fury. "How can someone do something so hateful when you did nothing to provoke him? What would it matter to him that you wanted to experience a special night in your life with the person that you loved? How did that affect _him_? _Hoe verschrikkelijk_!"

Justin had no idea what that meant, but he could tell by Maarten's inflection that it was meant in support as he smiled gratefully over at him. "It's okay," he told him. "I mean, what he DID was certainly not okay, but the blessings that I've received since then more than make up for it. It's more of a nuisance now – the asshole that did it isn't even worth thinking about anymore." He had his theories as to why Hobbs had done what he had done – jealousy being the prevailing one – but he had meant what he said – the man (he even hesitated to use that word when it came to him) wasn't worth the breath it took to even say his name.

He finally managed to finish off his sandwich as well as half of his soup before he wiped his mouth with his napkin and placed it down on his plate. "I'm ready to get started again," he told his new friend.

Maarten eyed him skeptically. "Are you sure, Justin? We can resume this tomorrow and I can have Alfred come and get you early."

Justin shook his head firmly. "No, it'll be fine; it's a lot better now." Maarten's gaze bored into his face until he sighed again. "Really, it is. But maybe if you have some Advil…"

Maarten nodded as he scooted back from his chair and went in search of the medicine. A few minutes later, he returned with a couple extra-strength tablets and a glass of water, which Justin accepted gratefully. The two of them sat quietly talking for approximately fifteen minutes more, until Justin finally convinced him that he did, indeed, feel better and he would like to continue.

* * *

><p><em>Later that afternoon<em>

The light began to shift from the northeast to the west as the penthouse was bathed more in shadow, indicating to Justin that he needed to stop for the day; by the time they had finished with a couple more frontal poses, he was surprised to see how late it was getting. Maarten had instructed him that Alfred would need to pick him up each day no later than 4:00 so he could return to retrieve Jacob by his 5:00 quitting time, and it was quickly approaching that time now.

"I think I've got what I need for the preliminary sketches, Maarten," he told his host as took his sketching board and pencils from the easel and slid them carefully back into his portfolio, folding up the portable easel and placing it back into his duffel bag for storage. "I'll go home and work on fleshing them out a little more so I can show them to you tomorrow. Once you decide which pose you like best, we can get started with the actual painting."

Maarten nodded. "I'll be right back," he said as he started ambling out of the living room. "Tomorrow I'm going to have a robe handy – my dick feels like it's about ready to break off! Jacob likes to keep the penthouse a little on the cold side, and the controls are so difficult to manage I haven't figured out how to change them yet! Just make sure when you DO paint me that you leave out all the goose pimples, okay?"

Justin laughed; he and Maarten had spent a great deal of his sketching time talking and getting to know each other better. It had certainly helped him to feel more at ease now. He had actually found that the two of them had a lot in common, from the same interest in music, movies, and food to their taste in men. They were discovering that their partners were a lot alike – headstrong, assertive, commanding, and overachievers, as well as very passionate and driven. By the time the day was through, his concerns over being uncomfortable having to paint someone other than Brian in the nude had been washed away completely.

Maarten returned several seconds later, having thrown on his jeans again and wearing some leather slippers to warm his feet. "Alfred should be here in a few minutes," he told Justin. "He'll text me on his cell once he's outside."

Justin nodded. "I really appreciate you having him drive me here. I don't think there's any way I could have brought all my supplies over here on the bus or the subway."

"I'm the one who's grateful, Justin!" Maarten assured him. "Jacob will be so surprised – and pleased – by the finished product, I just know it." He added more softly, "Again, I apologize for the misunderstanding, but I'm glad that it didn't affect your decision to accept my commission. I know you'll do a wonderful job for me."

Justin blushed at the compliment. "Thanks, I'll do my best."

Just then, Maarten's cell buzzed with a text that Alfred was outside. Quickly punching in an acknowledgment, he led Justin over to the door to say goodbye as the blond hoisted his portfolio up onto his shoulder and picked up his duffel bag to join him. "I can't wait to see your sketches tomorrow, Justin, and for us to actually get started. This will be the best Christmas yet for Jacob and me."

Justin beamed, thinking of his and Brian's Christmas. "Yeah…Me, too, Maarten. Me, too."

* * *

><p><em>AN: Thanks to Boriqua522 for looking this over for me - you're awesome, my friend.:)_


	4. Change of Plans

_Justin continues to work with Maarten on completing his project before Christmas; some changes are made to their original plan. How will that impact what happens next?_

* * *

><p><em>Evening – Two Days Later – Justin's Apartment<em>

Lying on his bed and staring over at the computer screen in post-coital bliss – well, as close as he could get to it without having the pleasure of touching the gorgeous man staring back at him – Justin couldn't help lingering on Brian's glistening, sweat-soaked body as his chest moved up and down, admiring the muscles that rippled with each breath. Even after all this time, the man was magnificent looking, especially after he had climaxed and was lying there tousled and messy looking. How he wished Brian was with him right now! He would be grabbing his sketchpad and his hands would be flying over the paper while he quickly recorded his partner for posterity as he sat up in their king-sized bed, his back braced up against the headboard for support while Brian just lay there accommodatingly by his side, a knowing, sexy smirk on his face. Just thinking about it made his face flush in response and his arms long to wrap themselves around that strong, sculpted body that he was presently openly ogling.

By now, Brian was used to Justin drawing him practically everywhere – in bed, of course, numerous times, but also sitting at his desk concentrating on his latest ad campaign, lounging casually on the couch, his feet crossed at the ankles and propped up on top of the foreboding, walnut coffee table in their living room as he watched an old movie classic, in the shower, or standing in front of one of their large bedroom windows, looking out onto the grounds below while a deer grazed placidly nearby. Anywhere, really, that Justin had the urge to record his latest movements. It was both flattering as well as weird in a way – kind of like having your own, round-the-clock paparazzi living with you – but he was used to it by now. As he stared over into his partner's eyes on the screen, he knew that look well and his face broke out into an amused smirk.

"You can draw me to your heart's content when you come home for Christmas, Sunshine," he told him fondly as if he had read his mind.

Justin snorted, pretending to be indignant. "You're not the only thing I draw, you know."

Brian grinned. "Well, I _do_ see an occasional 'other' fruit here and there – an apple, an orange…"

Justin let out a chortle at that statement. "Well, you're hands down the _sexiest_ 'fruit' I've ever drawn."

Brian smiled, thinking he'd like to pop someone's 'cherry' himself right now but knowing to his disappointment that it wasn't going to happen, at least not for several more days anyway. "How is your new project coming?" he asked curiously, remembering that Justin had told him something about a new commission a few days ago.

Justin licked his lips a little nervously, providing himself with some time to properly respond to that innocent-sounding question. He pondered how upfront he should be about his newest work; somehow he had the idea that his partner wouldn't look too kindly upon him working privately and one-on-one with Maarten as he painted him in the nude, even if it _was_ perfectly innocent. Despite Brian's stubborn refusal to acknowledge that he got jealous from time to time when other men hit on him when they were out in public, he knew better. All he had to do was take a good look at Brian's face when someone got too close to him, either on purpose or unintentionally to know that his partner did, in fact, 'do jealousy.' Normally all it took was for Brian to pull himself up to his full, dominating height and tower over them with a dark scowl on his face and they would typically be on their way in a shot. If that didn't work, he would move onto Plan B – getting into their face and glowering at them as he clearly enunciated, "Fuck off!" and gave them a helpful shove in the right direction toward the door. Yeah, Brian never got jealous of anyone when it came to him…_Right. _He had to admit it made him feel just a little smug over that fact, but it also made him tread carefully in certain situations such as this. How to best answer his question, then?

"It's going fine," he finally told him with a reassuring smile, deciding the least specific approach was the best. "I'm doing a portrait of someone as a Christmas present and having it framed for them." _Well, at least THAT much was true..._

Brian nodded as he took a drag on his cigarette, the smoke lazily rising to the bedroom's ceiling. "Well, no one could be as magnificent as me when it comes to subject matter," he stated matter-of-factly as Justin grinned over at him, secretly relieved that Brian hadn't pressed him for more details. "Are you sure you can finish it before Christmas?" he inquired nonchalantly. He didn't want Justin to know just how much he was looking forward to their spending time together at Britin; it was going to be a wonderful preview of the time soon when they could be together permanently and he couldn't wait. It just wouldn't do, though, for him to come across as TOO eager, though; he had to maintain _some_ degree of dignity.

Justin adjusted the pillow under his head as he nodded firmly; nothing was going to stop him from coming home for Christmas. "Even if I have to resort to drawing stick figures like your son does, _Mr. Kinney_, I will definitely be there." He had promised Gus and he had promised himself; Brian was going to be HIS Christmas present to HIM.

"Well, you just see that you do, Mr. Taylor," he gently chided him. "Cujo plus Gus equals definite disaster here."

Justin chuckled. He had to admit – having a high-spirited, full-of-life child and a 130-pound, rambunctious dog who still thought he was a puppy at Britin at the same time _was_ inviting potential calamity. And he could just imagine how Brian was sweating bullets at the thought of having to try and maintain control of them with just the help of the Munchers. Mel and Lindsay seemed more willing to 'go with the flow' than Brian did and let Tricky get away with practically murder at their house; of course, they were accustomed to having Gus and Tricky around on a full-time basis, too, and were no doubt used to constant mayhem as a result.

"Don't worry," he told Brian soothingly with a smile. "I got your back."

Brian snorted. "Well, GET _your back_ – and that hot little ass – back here as soon as possible." _Because I miss it – and YOU – like crazy,_ he thought silently as Justin stared over at him in amusement.

"Yes, Sir," he said dutifully as he tried to stifle a yawn but failed miserably.

Brian laughed softly. "Past time for your beauty rest, Sunshine?" He found himself gratified over the fact that he could wear out his partner merely with a little steamy webcam sex; how he wished, though, at that moment that he could have worn Justin out in a different manner. He was constantly fantasizing at night about how he and Justin were lying in their bed at Britin together, spooned back-to-front with Justin fast asleep in his favorite position – with his arms around his waist and his cock still buried deep inside him after they had made love over and over again. With nothing but skin-on-skin now, it made the emotions – and the experience – so much more intense each time they were together. Just the thought right now that he was going to have to wait a little longer for the real thing left him aching for his touch; Justin's damn pillow on his side of the bed was an extremely poor substitute.

"I'm sorry," Justin told him sheepishly, jarring Brian from his musing. "I've been working overtime each day to try and get my project finished on time."

Brian's eyes narrowed as he noticed Justin's right hand lying almost underneath him on the other side of the screen. "You ARE taking regular breaks at the gallery, aren't you?"

Justin winced, hoping Brian wouldn't notice. Which part should he answer? No, he wasn't taking breaks, or no, he wasn't working at the gallery? He rehearsed how it would sound in his mind. _No, Brian, I'm actually not working at the gallery. It's kind of hard to work at Tabitha's with a naked man as your subject_. _Yeah, that would go over really well, especially with Brian, wouldn't it?_ _Shit_. He hated this duplicity.

"Justin?" There was that arched eyebrow that spoke volumes when he didn't get a ready reply. "Your hand's bothering you again, isn't it?"

He bit his lower lip and took a breath first, both relieved that Brian wasn't pressing him for more details regarding his commissioned work and chagrined to know that Brian wouldn't take any bullshit regarding his hand's condition. "Just a little…" he admitted softly.

"Shit, Justin!" Brian growled instantly, his eyes flashing in irritation as his voice rose. "She knows better than to push you like that! What the fuck is wrong with her?"

"Brian, you know she's not doing that! I just want to get it done before Christmas, that's all!" Tabitha had met his partner before when Brian had stopped into the gallery to fetch him (why was he thinking in dog language all of a sudden?); after all, Brian's face – and body – was immediately recognizable to her after the numerous depictions he had done of him, and the two of them had gotten along amicably enough during the times they had met. But he also knew that whenever Brian sensed some sort of perceived injustice being done to him, his protective mode came to the surface in a heartbeat.

Brian sighed heavily at his partner's response. That actually made sense in a 'Justin' sort of way – he could be such an obstinate little twat at times when he wanted something badly, well…_ALL_ of the time, in fact. "A hell of a lot of good it's going to do you if you wind up with all that pain, Justin. That will make for a really cheery Christmas. Now if your hand was hurting because you were having to jerk off all the time since you missed my cock so much, I could understand…"

Justin rolled his eyes but had to smile at that thought. "Well, it IS pretty hard to live up to that particular piece of your anatomy from a distance," he admitted. He let out a breath before reassuring him softly, "It'll be okay, Brian."

Brian eyed him intently; even with the less-than-optimal resolution of the web camera, he could see the slight furrowing of Justin's brow and he knew exactly what that meant. "Look, Sunshine, you know I want you to finish that damn thing as much as _you_ do, but you're pushing yourself too hard. You'll get it done in time; you always do when you put your mind to it. And I know you have a strong incentive to get it done, too – my company and my cock."

Justin grinned. "Nice try. You just want me back home as a shield to protect you from Cujo."

Brian curled his lips under as he took another inhale of his cigarette and blew it out. "Well, that _would_ be an added benefit." His voice softened as he noticed Justin yawning again. "Better get some sleep, Picasso. I _would_ ask if you're remembering to eat, too, but I know better. You'd no more forget to eat than I would decide to sell Kinnetik and run a doggy day care."

Justin smiled sleepily at his partner's remark as he turned on his side toward the laptop and reached out to touch the computer screen, his fingers settling on Brian's face near the lips that he longed to touch and kiss. He noticed the glass was getting smudged like crazy now after weeks of performing the same ritual over and over again. _God, this was so hard being apart_. "I guess I'll say goodnight, then," he whispered reluctantly as his hand dropped back to his side on the bed in resignation. "Same time tomorrow, Stud?" he teased.

Brian gazed over at him through the computer screen, thinking how cold and stark it seemed compared to the real thing. "Yeah," he replied with surprising solemnity before the familiar curl of the lips reappeared. "Just make sure you rest that hand so you can 'properly' perform tomorrow night." He couldn't think of anything hotter than watching Justin pleasuring himself – that is, if he couldn't be there himself to help him along personally.

Justin snorted. "Why do I feel like you're still comparing me to a dog? Does 'roll-over' ring a bell?"

Brian was silent for a moment, about to issue a snappy retort about how much Justin _loved_ to perform that particular trick before he thought better of it and grumbled almost apologetically, "You know what I mean." He suddenly felt a little guilty over the unintentional comparison.

"I know," Justin assured him softly as he gazed into the hazel eyes and read between the lines. "I miss you, too."

Brian peered over at him for several seconds before he nodded. _If you only knew just how much…_"Get some sleep," he repeated gently. "And I'll be right here tomorrow, waiting for you." _I'll ALWAYS be waiting for you, no matter HOW long it takes. I never had a choice, did I?_

Justin swallowed the sudden lump that rose in his throat as he nodded and smiled over at him tenderly. "Good night. I'll be dreaming of you."

Brian's typical, flippant response of 'later' died on his lips as he gazed over at his partner lying in a bed hundreds of miles away from him and replied instead, "Yeah - me, too. I'll see you soon – then I can give you a _real_ hand job."

Justin smiled as the connection was quietly severed. _Yeah…He couldn't wait._

Brian flopped back down onto his back as their conversation ended; his thoughts in a swirl. An idea began to form in his mind just before his eyelids grew heavy and he drifted off to sleep.

* * *

><p><em>Ten Days Later – Jacob &amp; Maarten's apartment<em>

"You sure I can't take just a little peek?" Maarten cajoled hopefully as he got up from his position on the couch and slipped on his robe. He was beginning to understand why he had admired Justin's work so much; the man was exactly what he had described himself to be: an absolute perfectionist when it came to his projects. Justin had taken his preliminary sketches home with him that first night and polished them off before bringing them back the next day to go over them with him. He had been astounded by the detail in each one – every curve and angle of his body, every ripple of his muscles; even individual strands of his hair on the back of his neck could be detected. He was amazed that he could actually make out the direction of woven fibers in the maroon throw Justin had used to mask the color of the couch with. Even the fact that he had done that in the first place indicated how meticulous Justin was in his determination to make sure his completed work was as accurate as possible.

He had felt his face grow warm when he had first seen the preliminary sketches of him – especially the frontal ones. He wasn't ashamed of his body at all – he worked hard to keep it as fit as possible – but at the same time he wasn't accustomed to it being on display for another man, either. Knowing that it was necessary to give his partner the ultimate, personal Christmas gift, however, he had swallowed his initial discomfiture and thrown caution to the wind. To his relief, the quick rapport that he and Justin had established from the outset, as well as Justin's professionalism, had helped both of them to overcome any initial awkwardness as they progressed each day toward finishing their mutual goal.

HIs thoughts strayed to his partner as he thought about his reaction when he received his gift from him. Even though Jacob and Justin didn't look anything alike – Jacob was tall and more muscular with dark, thick, wavy hair and green eyes with a medium-hued complexion – Justin still reminded him of his partner with his devotion and passion toward his work. He was always grousing to his dedicated partner about how he spent way too many hours at the office, to the point where Jacob had vowed to cut down on his 60-hour work weeks after the first of the year. Even though he knew the chances were good that he would at least see his partner occasionally during the day when they finally started working together, he still relished their leisure time alone much more than any stolen moments at the office would ever bring. He hoped that his gift would convey to him just how much he meant to him.

Now as he walked up to Justin's side, he tried to crane his neck to steal a glance from around the side of the canvas in an attempt to see how the painting was coming along, but Justin deftly placed his body in between him and the painting to block his view and grinned back impertinently at him as he shook his head in reproach.

Maarten groaned in frustration. "Come on, Justin! You know I'm going to have to see it eventually."

Justin smiled. "Well, you'll just have to wait until I'm done," he insisted firmly.

"Why?" Maarten inched closer and closer to the side of the easel, hoping Justin wouldn't notice. He was dying to know what the painting looked like, but each day Justin made sure that he stopped early enough so the most recent part that he had painted would be dry before he left. The anticipation was killing him, though, the closer they inched toward completion.

"Maarten," Justin chided him as he turned the easel away from his prying eyes. "I told you – it's an artist thing – I just don't like anyone to see it until I'm completely finished." He grinned as the other man actually pouted in disappointment while he wiped some paint off his hands and onto his favorite ratty denim shirt that he used for his work. "It's almost done," he promised him. "I would say you only have to pose for me for one more day, and then I'll be able to finish up with the background from there."

Giving up his quest to get a sneak peek for the time being, Maarten plopped down on one of the cream-colored chairs nearby as Justin shrugged out of his paint-splattered, oversized shirt and walked over to join him in the opposite chair; as he normally did when he painted, Justin was wearing a long-sleeved tee-shirt underneath his other shirt, a fact he was thankful for since the apartment tended to be on the cool side.

As if reading his mind, Maarten said, "Well, it _will_ be nice when I'm able to keep my clothes _on_ for a change. I'm going to be dead from frostbite before too long if I don't find out how to work that damn thermostat. I've got to figure out how to work it before I die of exposure."

Justin laughed. "Somehow I don't think Jacob will mind too much if the electric bill goes up a little this month once he sees the reason why."

"It's that good?"

"A handsome subject and a gifted painter? You bet your frosty ass it is." Justin confidently replied as the two men laughed. In the ten days that they had been meeting daily, Justin and Maarten had become good friends. The hours spent each day working on the painting had seemed to fly by, and due mainly to Maarten insisting that Justin take at least short breaks each day on a frequent basis, his hand had not been bothering him as much, despite his determined efforts to get their project done in the next few days. Time was quickly running out to have it done and framed in time for Christmas, which was now just five days away. Hopefully, though, he could have the painting completely finished in the next couple of days and get it rushed off to the framer to have it back just in time for the unveiling on Christmas Day. The faster he completed it, too, the sooner he would be on his way back to Pittsburgh to spend some quality time with Brian. He couldn't wait to see him, Gus and the girls. He was even looking forward to seeing Tricky; the dog seemed to get Brian's dander up, but Justin thought he was funny as hell. Who was he kidding anyway? He couldn't wait to see EVERYTHING back in his hometown and at Britin. He missed it all – Debbie's screeching when she greeted him and the taste of her cooking, Em's jokes and funny sayings, Ted's fastidious quirks, even Michael's whininess over the injustices in his life. And of course, his mother and sister, who he kept in regular contact with and missed almost as much as Brian.

His homesick thoughts were interrupted as Maarten stood up when he heard his cell phone ringing, having left it on the coffee table. Walking over to retrieve it, he glanced at the caller I.D. "Speak of the devil," he said in a stage whisper to Justin before he pressed the button to answer it. "Hey, Mr. Hot Shot Attorney," he replied with a grin. "Don't tell me – You don't want me to cook tonight – you're bringing home a couple of juicy steaks and baked potatoes from Mario's instead." In the short time he had been living in New York, the upscale chophouse had quickly become his favorite restaurant, and Jacob spoiled him terribly by surprising him with a takeout from there on a frequent basis in between him fixing his partner _his_ favorite meal at home – chicken marsala with fettuccini. He had made good use of the outrageously expensive, gourmet kitchen to spoil his partner by demonstrating his proficient cooking skills, a task he enjoyed immensely.

Jacob smiled affectionately on the other end of the phone; no matter what a terrible day he might be having, just hearing his partner's voice always made him feel so much better. He just wished he could tell him that WAS the reason why he was calling. He sighed in regret. "No, I wish I _could_ say that. Actually, I have to fly out of town for a couple of days." He always kept a small suitcase packed at the office for just those occasions when he was forced to leave unexpectedly to put out a fire somewhere for a client. Unfortunately, this was one of those cases; apparently white-collar money laundering was big business around the holidays when funds were tight and the accused needed extra funds to satisfy their needs, whether it was gambling, alcohol, or as in this case, extravagant purchases for a secret mistress.

Justin watched as his friend's face clouded over in dismay. "_Now_? It's five days before Christmas, Jacob! Who needs an attorney this close to the holiday?" Justin looked over at him sympathetically as Maarten pursed his lips together in agitation, upset that their Christmas was about to be spoiled. He knew he was being a little unreasonable, because being an attorney himself he knew you had to be on call and available at all times. It still made him feel greatly disappointed, though, until his partner's words sunk in a little more and he replied hopefully, "You said a _couple_ of days? Does that mean…"

"Yes, I will definitely be home before Christmas, _Schatje _, I promise."

Maarten anger instantly dissipated; whenever Jacob called him by that Dutch endearment, it always affected him; somehow knowing his lover was going to the trouble of using his native language to speak to him always made him melt no matter how irritated he might be, and Jacob knew that, too.

"No fair," he mumbled as he relented and his tone softened. "You know that always gets to me."

From his place in the airport's frequent flyer lounge, Jacob chuckled, knowing he had won once more. "I know," he admitted easily. "That's why I do it." He heard Maarten huff in response, imagining him rolling his beautiful blue eyes at that statement as he quickly hastened to add, "But I mean it, Maarten – I WILL be home before Christmas. My return flight is due to get back to New York City on Saturday – Christmas Eve. I promise I will wrap up whatever I need to do and get back to you in time for us to spend Christmas together this year." He knew how much that meant to Maarten, since they hadn't been able to be together last Christmas; his workload and Maarten's tentative immigration status hadn't been hammered out at that point, so they had been forced to celebrate it apart. Of course, it had turned out not to be much of a celebration when they weren't able to enjoy it together, so he was even more determined to make sure they weren't repeating the same experience this year, no matter _what_ trouble the client found himself in.

Justin quietly rose from his chair and walked over to his partially-completed painting to pick up the water-filled jar he used to soak his brushes in, noticing that whatever Maarten was discussing with his partner, he plainly wasn't happy about it. He watched as Maarten and Jacob continued their discussion for a few more minutes before the man finally sighed in acceptance as he rose from his chair and restlessly brushed his hand through his hair. "Okay, I'm going to hold you to that, Jacob Thomas. You WILL be home on Saturday no matter what – I don't care if the man killed someone."

Jacob laughed – that throaty-type of laugh that meant he was thoroughly amused. "Don't worry – if he doesn't wrap up our business within the next couple of days, I'll need your services to represent ME because _I'LL_ be the one doing the murdering." He paused for a moment, hating to leave but knowing that his plane was taking off shortly. "I'll be home like I promised," he assured him again. "I love you, _Schatje ." _

Justin's eyes grew wide as he pondered that statement; he couldn't help overhearing. Jacob was representing a _murderer?_ He watched as Maarten nodded again before he added softly, "Yeah…I do, too. Don't forget now." A few seconds later he ended the conversation and turned to face Justin with a sigh. "I guess you figured out that was Jacob." Justin nodded as he explained, "He told me he has to go out of town to Chicago for a couple of days to help out some important client who's been accused of money laundering."

Justin frowned. "I thought I heard you say he was a murderer."

Maarten grinned. "I was just kidding – but if Jacob doesn't get home on Saturday like he promised, I think I might consider becoming one myself. We had to spend Christmas apart last year, so I've really been looking forward to us spending our first Christmas together in the States here at the penthouse."

Justin nodded as he walked up to him, still carrying the jar of water and brushes; Maarten had been letting him rinse them in the laundry room at the end of the hallway where the washer and dryer were located before he left each day.

He was about to walk away when he realized he had left his painting out where Maarten could see it. He knew it was silly, but it was almost a sort of superstition with him, kind of like avoiding stepping on cracks or not walking under a ladder. He always had this notion that it was bad luck for the subject to see his portrait before he was completely done with it, and this was no exception. He placed his jar down on the floor carefully before walking over to the painting to see if it was dry yet, noticing to his satisfaction that it was. He picked the painting up and was about to slide in into his portfolio for safekeeping when he heard Maarten making another attempt.

"Justin…"

"Sorry," the other man was promptly told as Justin held the painting up in mid-air. "You know the rules."

Maarten snorted, a universal expression in _any _language. "Were you possibly a policeman in a previous life – or maybe a nun?"

Justin couldn't help laughing. "I hardly think so," he replied. "I don't respond too well to taking orders from the _establishment."_ He smiled at Maarten's perplexed look before adding, "At least I don't have to worry about Jacob seeing my painting now, though; if it wasn't for your constant attempts at peeking, I could even leave it here for a couple of days until he comes home, but I know better." Alfred had been a godsend the past several days driving him back and forth each day; it had certainly made his work much easier. Of course, if he could leave the painting here, though, it was be even easier. A certain persistent man, however, made that impossible to even consider.

Justin slid the painting into his portfolio and propped it up against the easel before he waggled a finger at his friend and proceeded to walk toward the hallway. "Now I'd better not catch you sneaking a look while I'm gone," he warned as Maarten sat down on the couch and grinned at him. Justin was about to walk out of the room when Maarten suddenly cried out, "Wait!"

Justin frowned as he turned around, wondering if something was wrong; from the expression on Maarten's face, however, he didn't seem upset. Rather, he appeared to have experienced an epiphany of sorts. "What?" he asked curiously.

"You could paint here at night now!" Maarten told him eagerly as Justin frowned at him. "Don't you realize what this means? With Jacob gone for the next couple of days, you could paint me with the nighttime skyline in the background after _all_!" He had been disappointed before to learn that it wouldn't be possible; he had had his heart set on using that as the backdrop for the portrait. Now, though, things had taken an optimistic turn.

Justin paused as his friend's statement sank in. If Jacob WAS going out of town, he was right; he could simply modify his schedule so he could be here at the penthouse in the evening instead of during the day, and he _was _extremely curious about what the Manhattan skyline looked like all lit up like a wondrous Christmas tree at night. He had never really had an opportunity to see it from this high up; his tiny apartment certainly didn't afford that sort of spectacular view. "Yeah…I guess I could," he told Maarten finally as a smile broke out on his face. "It _would_ be a nice touch with the color theme I'm using." He had been a little concerned that the bright sunlight he was working with during the day would wash out the focus on his subject; placing him against the backdrop of the inky darkness of the sparkling skyline at night, though, would make the painting quite distinct and highlight his subject perfectly. He nodded. "This would be the perfect opportunity, wouldn't it? Maybe his going out of town for a couple of days was fate, then."

Maarten beamed back at him in agreement. "Yeah…I never thought I'd say this, but I'm GLAD he's going out of town; at least as long as he gets back by Christmas Eve. Can you adjust your schedule?"

Justin grinned with a nod. "Yes – that's one of the perks of being an artist – that and the anticipation of receiving money eventually," he joked as Maarten laughed.

"Oh, don't worry," he assured him. "We will BOTH get what we want by the time this is all over." He smiled. "If the finished work is anything like your sketches and the paintings that I've seen of your partner, I know both Jacob and I are going to love it." He paused for a moment before inquiring, "Is your Brian as beautiful in person as you portray him on canvas?" From what he had seen, Justin's partner was stunnngly handsome from head to toe. It was hard to say, though, which man was the luckiest, because Justin would be able to stand up against the best of them, too, just in a dramatically different way.

Justin nodded, his heart beating a little more rapidly merely at the thought of his gorgeous partner. "Even more so," he verified truthfully, a wistful tone creeping into his voice. For as much as he faithfully attempted to reproduce his partner's essence on canvas and on paper, he knew he could never quite duplicate him perfectly. Only the real thing would ever suffice for that. He blinked, realizing he had been daydreaming a little as he gazed over at Maarten guiltily.

"What time do you want me to have Alfred pick you up tomorrow, then?" Maarten asked, fascinated by the faraway look that had appeared on his friend's face at the mention of his partner's name. It was obvious how deeply in love Justin was with Brian; he hoped one day that he could meet him. He almost felt like he knew him already from the many portraits and sketches he had seen of him and through the information Justin had provided to him during their sessions this past week.

Justin bit his lip in thought. He could spend part of the day making the framing arrangements before he came over; that would save him time once the finished work was done. He had an ongoing relationship with a talented framer near the gallery who treated each of his works meticulously and seemed to know just the right type of frame to use to go with his painting. "How about 5:00?" he asked as he dug into his jeans pocket and retrieved a slim digital camera that he always kept with him. "I'll take a couple of photos of what I've done so far and use it to get the framing arrangements started. That should speed up that part of the process once I'm done with the painting."

Maarten nodded. "That's a great idea!" He beamed at his friend. "I can't wait to see it – and to see Jacob's reaction! I know he's going to love it and I'll be immortalized forever now."

Justin laughed. "Well, as long as the acrylics last, anyway." He reached down to pull the painting back out and place it back on the easel, long enough to snap a couple shots of it for the framer; he was about to slide in back into his portfolio when Maarten spoke up once more with another suggestion.

"Wait, Justin," he began as Justin eyed him warily. He sighed. "I know, I know, I can't see it yet. But it seems really silly for you to tote all of that back home when there's no need to. What if I have you store it in the laundry room and give you the key to lock it? That way you would know I can't get in to see it, but you wouldn't have to bring it back here with you tomorrow. That seems silly." He grinned and held up his right hand as if he were making a pledge as Justin continued to stare over at him in suspicion. "I promise not to have an extra key made before you come back tomorrow. I want to see it, but I'm not THAT desperate."

Justin snorted. "I'm not so sure," he quipped. He had to admit that the idea did sound attractive, though; it would be so much easier to just leave it all here for the next two days. He nodded. "Okay – you hand me the key first, though."

Maarten laughed as Justin raised his eyebrows expectantly. "Fair enough," he agreed with a grin as he walked over to the nearby kitchen and came out a few seconds later holding a Tiffany key ring with his initials on it – a gift from Jacob when he had been hired at the law firm. "You would have made a good attorney, you know," he declared as he twisted the laundry room key off the ring and handed it to Justin. "I'll wait right here like a good little boy until you have it safely secured away from inquisitive eyes."

Justin grinned as he sidestepped Maarten and shuffled down the hallway, his worn sneakers barely making a sound as he walked into the laundry room and closed the door. Several seconds later, Maarten heard the door open and close again and the sound of a key being inserted into the lock before Justin returned empty-handed this time.

"All locked up tight from your persistent fans?"

Justin grinned. "Well, ONE fan, anyway." He glanced over at a sleek, Dali-style clock hanging next to the bookshelf, noticing it was close to quitting time for the day. "Perfect timing," he stated. "With ten minutes to spare."

"Shit!" Maarten exclaimed. "I didn't realize how late it was." He watched in amusement as Justin started to heft his duffel back onto his shoulder like he normally did, only to drop it back down on the ground. "Hard to break old habits, isn't it?"

Justin grinned. "I forgot I don't have to take this with me tonight. Not that I'm complaining especially; I actually like it. It's just that it feels…_Weird_. Almost like I'M the one who's not wearing any clothes."

As if on cue, the buzzing of Maarten's cellphone signified Alfred's arrival. After texting him an acknowledgment, the two men walked side by side toward the door of the penthouse to say goodbye.

"So I should instruct Alfred to pick you up tomorrow at five, then?" Maarten inquired as they stood near the entrance to the penthouse.

Justin nodded as he turned the knob and opened the door to leave. "Yeah – I'll be ready. In the meantime, I'll start on the framing arrangements. You're okay with whatever frame the two of us wind up deciding upon, or do you want to see it first before he goes ahead with the construction? I'll make sure it complements the décor in your bedroom." Maarten had taken Justin on a tour of the entire penthouse the first day he was there; Justin had spent several minutes in the two men's master bedroom, observing the clean, contemporary lines of the space and the color themes used before developing in his mind an appropriate type frame and material for the painting. He had a good idea of what to use now, thanks to the initial tour.

Maarten nodded as Justin turned to leave. "I trust your judgment, Justin; after all, _you're_ the artist. I am but the clay." Justin laughed at his offbeat description; he was about to leave when Maarten impulsively reached over and, lightly grasping his shoulders, gave him a European-style peck on the cheek, feeling grateful for all the hard work he was putting forth on his behalf. He knew Justin would be well compensated for his work, but he had come to think of Justin as more than just a temporary employee of his; he was a friend now. "I'll be so excited to see Jacob's reaction, Justin, especially with the night background you'll be adding."

Justin smiled. "Yeah, I'm feeling really confident about it, too, and the skyline should really dress it up."

Maarten frowned. "Dress it up?"

Justin chuckled. "It's an expression," he advised. "Let's just say that I think Jacob will be very pleased with it. Of course, when you're in love with the subject matter that usually helps, too."

"Hogwash!" Maarten growled vehemently in disagreement. "That has nothing to do with it!" Justin laughed at the unexpected, distinctly American colloquialism as Maarten explained, "Jacob taught me that; it's one of his favorite expressions and I thought it fit here."

Justin laughed, thoroughly entertained by his new friend. He had to admit – this had been one of his more pleasant painting experiences. After his initial, awkward surprise had subsided over learning that he would be painting a nude portrait of Maarten, and once the occasional twinges of residual pain in his right hand had diminished, he had found himself having a blast this past week. And when he realized that soon he would be completely done and on his way to seeing Brian again, it made it all the more exhilarating.

"I'd better go," Justin said with a smile. "I'll see you tomorrow evening." Maarten waved as watched Justin walk to the elevator, returning his smile with one of his own.

"See you then – I'm going to go pull up the name of a locksmith now," Maarten called out to him as the elevator door opened. Justin shook his head and laughed before he entered the car and with an accomplished sense of weariness he leaned tiredly against the elevator's rear support pole, watching as the twin doors slowly closed behind him for the day.

* * *

><p>AN: _You've probably gotten an inkling by now if you're read this that I am NOT going to be able to adhere to my 'finish this by Christmas' schedule. I'm sure no one is really surprised by that, though - ha! If it's any consolation, I have the next chapter pretty much finished and hope to have it posted at least by tomorrow. _

_To all the readers who have provided me with encouragement during the past year, and to those who have designated me as a 'favorite author' (which means the world to me!) I wish you all a very Merry Christmas and a peaceful, happy New Year. I hope you will continue to enjoy my stories for a long time to come.:) Thank you for all your support!:) A special thank you to Boriqua522 for continuing to look my stories over for me before I publish them - thank you, my friend.:)  
><em>


	5. Trust is a TwoWay Street

_Brian plans to surprise Justin with a NYC reunion, but he and Maarten's partner wind up getting the surprise. Will they be able to get past their differences to have a Merry Christmas after all? **Major Angst Alert Here, Readers...But Don't Worry, They'll Work It All Out!**_

* * *

><p><em>The Next Day – Mid-Afternoon – JFK Airport<em>

Brian glanced down at his cellphone as he turned it back on and nodded; by his estimation, he had just enough time to check in at the hotel where he had reserved a lavish room for him and Justin before he headed over to the gallery to surprise his lover. He knew how Justin was when he was focused on getting his latest painting done, and he also knew how badly his partner wanted to get his current work completed so he could head home to be with him. That combination probably insured that Justin was working nonstop and only taking breaks long enough to piss and, of course, eat; that was one thing Justin would never overlook even under these circumstance, he couldn't help thinking with a smile.

Quickly striding out of the terminal, he slid his overnight bag onto his shoulder as he pushed his way through the revolving door, his heart beginning to hammer a little in anticipation. His decision this morning to leave his office in the capable hands of Ted and Cynthia had been an impulsive one, coming after spending yet another restless night of reaching out and finding nothing but the scent of Justin's shampoo on his pillow and a cold, lifeless sheet under his touch. He realized at that moment that he was sick – heartsick, he thought in realization, not even trying to deny it to himself – and he couldn't wait any longer. It was almost a physical ache, this yearning to be with his lover again, and he decided it was time to do something about it. There was no reason why he couldn't come and be with Justin at night while he painted during the day; it would be the ideal solution. He and his lover could fuck their brains out at night, and he could make the rounds of his favorite men's shops during the day while Justin finished his portrait. As he walked toward one of the available taxis, he wondered why this solution hadn't occurred to him before. No matter, though – tonight he and Justin would rectify that oversight and they would finally be reunited.

"Where to, Sir?" the cabbie asked him as he turned to gaze back at his passenger in the rear seat.

Brian smiled. "The Peninsula." The hotel held a special place in his memories; it was where he had discovered a certain, impertinent little blond twink hiding out, pigging out on every gourmet delicacy imaginable as he watched some inane horror movie on t.v., all at his expense after he had kicked him out of his loft in a moment of misdirected rage and Justin had brazenly stolen his credit card. It was also the scene of one of the hottest nights of sex he had ever had with Justin, precipitated by his immense relief over finding him alive and unharmed. Justin's abrupt departure has scared the shit out of him, but of course at the time he wasn't about to admit that to him out loud. Somehow, though, he had a feeling that Justin had known just the same. After that endless night of sex, he realized that Justin really _could _wear him out; since then, he had proven that point numerous times, in fact. If HE had his way, he would have him demonstrate that talent again tonight, because the two of them had a lot of lost time to make up for.

An hour later, Brian had checked into one of the hotel's deluxe rooms, complete with a black marble Jacuzzi and a king-sized bed – just like the one that Justin had procured for himself several years ago. As he placed his suitcase down on the overstuffed, off-white lounge chair, his mind drifted back to that day several years ago when Justin had first come here. At least his partner had exhibited good taste back then, whether it was intentional or not; the Peninsula was one of the most luxurious hotels in Chelsea. As he sat there for a few moments on the bed, he couldn't help thinking that while he wasn't sure what sort of fate had conspired to place Justin under that lamppost the night that they had met, he sure was glad that something had. He couldn't imagine not having his partner in his life now.

Walking into the well-appointed bathroom with a change of clothes, he emerged from the shower ten minutes later, hastily brushing his hair back into some semblance of order as he checked himself out in the mirror, nodding in satisfaction at the long-sleeved, black satin shirt and dark blue jeans he had opted to wear. Tasteful but casual, he decided, as he picked up his leather jacket contining his keycard, wallet, and cellphone and headed toward the door, hoping the taxi he had requested to take him to Tabitha's gallery was waiting downstairs. If all went as planned, in just a few minutes' time he would finally be reunited with his partner.

The concierge, having admired the tall, handsome man checking in earlier, instantly recognized him as he emerged from the polished doors of the elevator into the main lobby, advising him the taxi was waiting just outside to take him to his destination. Slipping the man a five-dollar bill but otherwise not bothering to give the disappointed employee a second glance, he walked outside and slipped into the backseat of the cab, his pulse quickening at the thought of finally seeing his lover in person again.

* * *

><p><em>Same Time – Moment In Time Frame Shop<em>

"As usual, your work is exquisite," Lewis raved as he studied the photos of Justin's latest 'masterpiece' that he held in his hands. The 50ish, baldheaded man and the young artist had become fast friends over the past few months; Justin had stumbled upon his one-man shop while taking a walk through the neighborhood surrounding Tabitha's gallery. The frame shop was situated down one of the narrow side alleys and wasn't really meant for impromptu, walk-in business; Lewis had been at the same location now for over twenty years and had reached the point where his work was mainly secured from repeat customers who knew how to find him and from the word of mouth that his attention to detail generated, so he had the luxury of not having to actually advertise for new customers.

Justin, however, being the curious type who loved to go exploring parts unknown in the city, had decided one day to check out the older, cobblestone, one-lane alley branching off from the main road and had become enthralled while he stood at the large picture window of the shop, watching Lewis meticulously craft a frame for a painting that had been dropped off earlier. The owner had noticed someone watching him out of the corner of his eye and had lifted his gaze to see a petite young man with a shock of blond hair and bright blue eyes smiling back at him. Something – he didn't know what, because he normally was a cautious man around strangers – caused him to crook his finger and invite Justin inside. One thing led to another during the course of their conversation that ensued, and before he knew it, he was asking Justin to bring in some of his artwork so he could take a look at it. Not really expecting much out of such a young artist, he had been amazed by the quality and depth of Justin's work and had offered to frame the next painting Justin would be displaying in Tabitha's gallery for free. Enormously grateful for the man's kindness, Justin brought every painting he needed to Lewis' shop now, partially out of a feeling he needed to repay him but more due to the fact that he thought his older friend's craftsmanship was simply the best and couldn't be surpassed by anyone else.

Lewis gazed down at the photo in his hand and commented, "I think this is the first nude I've seen you paint that wasn't your partner." He and Justin had spent a lot of time discussing his most favorite subject – his partner, Brian Kinney, and over the course of time he had seen numerous depictions of the handsome man, so it wasn't hard to figure out this man posing with his body facing away from him wasn't Justin's partner.

He watched as his young friend's face blushed in confirmation. "No," Justin told him. "I'm painting it as a surprise for a client's partner as a Christmas present. That's why I'm in such a hurry to get it framed so quickly."

Lewis eyed him intently from over his wire-rimmed glasses, his brown eyes twinkling as he said, "Another favor, huh?"

Justin grimaced. "I know it's really short notice. But if anyone can do it, I know _you _can. You're a fucking miracle worker."

"Ahh…Flattery; you must _really_ be desperate to get it done right away, then," he answered in mock gruffness. "And what makes you think I will push _your_ project to the top of the pile? It IS Christmas you know."

Justin smiled at him as he pursed his lips together to keep from laughing; the two of them were always bantering back and forth about something and he wasn't sure which of them enjoyed it more – him or Lewis. "Because you're always eager to see my newest painting and you love the challenge of finding just the perfect frame for them. And because you know I'll bring you those Danish that you can't resist as an added bonus. I'll even throw in an extra half-dozen this time."

Lewis shook his head and sighed, knowing he never could say no to this talented young man. "My head is saying no way, but my stomach is a different matter. You must _really_ be desperate this time to throw in another half-dozen," he observed as he continued to study the partially-finished portrait. "This wouldn't have anything to do with being able to get out of town and head back home, would it? Speaking of which, I'd venture to say a certain someone doesn't know about this little project, does he?" He and Justin had had plenty of time to talk about their personal lives during Justin's many visits to his shop, even trading pictures of each other's 'significant others.' Lewis's parents had come from Sicily just before he was born in the Bronx and he had married his high school sweetheart right after graduation; they had just recently celebrated their 25th wedding anniversary. It was a far cry from Justin's situation, but Lewis didn't judge. He could tell Justin was deeply in love with this other man, and to him that was all that mattered. He had never seen Justin paint anyone else in such an intimate manner, however, and he wondered how his partner would feel about that if he knew.

He watched as Justin's face turned red and he knew at that moment that he didn't need any further verification. "It's just an assignment, Justin; surely he would understand."

Justin snorted. "I thought I had described Brian better than that. Are you kidding?" He blew out a tense breath between his lips. "I hate keeping this from him, Lewis," he admitted. "We promised never to keep things from each other again after what happened. But Brian seems to throw rationality out the window when he thinks there's so much as a possibility that someone's hitting on me. Believe me, it's for the best."

Lewis nodded; Justin had told him one day about the other man who had threatened to break the two men apart for good. That is, until his friend had come to his senses and realized what the true meaning of love really meant. Still, though, it didn't seem too smart to withhold something like that from your partner, but he had to trust that Justin knew Brian better than he did. "I suppose you're right," he said as he placed the two photos down on his work table and turned to peer into the blond's eyes. He thought he detected some uncertainty there as he said, "I just hope it doesn't blow up in your face, my friend."

Justin nodded, only too aware of the tenuous rope he was dangling from. He shook his head. "It's for the best," he repeated, not sure if he was trying to convince Lewis of that or himself. "I'll be done with it in the next couple of days and if you can start on the frame in the meantime, it'll be completely finished by Friday and then I can fly back home. Brian will never be the wiser and they'll be no harm done."

Lewis arched an eyebrow skeptically. "If you're sure," he replied as Justin stared over at him expectantly while he held his breath. He finally sighed in resignation and nodded in agreement. "Okay, Justin. Let me keep these photos to work with and give me the dimensions of your canvas. I'll see what I can do for you."

Justin beamed as he stood up to go and placed his hand on the older man's shoulder to give it a brief squeeze. He quickly reached inside his jacket pocket to produce a small piece of paper where he had already written down what the other man needed, knowing he would be able to convince him to help him. "Thanks, Lewis! I knew I could count on you! I'll be back no later than Friday morning with the painting so you can finish framing it. I can't thank you enough."

Lewis laughed as he held the paper in his hand and groused, "Just make sure you don't come back empty-handed, young man; I expect to get well paid – and well fed."

Justin grinned. "You've got a deal," he said as he rushed toward the door, knowing he had to head back soon or he would be running late for his nighttime meeting with Maarten. "Thanks again!" he called out as he opened the door and it shut with a bang, the overhead bell clanging loudly in response.

Lewis shook his head and sighed. "I hope you know what you're doing, my friend," he murmured to himself as he picked up one of the photographs and studied it again. A minute later, he rose from his table and walked to the back of the shop to begin choosing which frame to use.

* * *

><p><em> Same Day – 4:50 p.m.<em>

"Justin! It's almost 5:00!" Tabitha poked her head out of her office in search of her protégé. He had come rushing in about fifteen minutes ago, looking for some darker-colored paints he kept on hand at the back of the gallery where his workspace was located, pausing just long enough to give her a short progress report. At least they were back on congenial speaking terms again. Not that Justin had actually been angry with her before, but he had definitely been a little aggravated with her a few days ago over the fact that she hadn't mentioned that Maarten wanted a nude portrait done of him. It had taken her several minutes to convince Justin that she honestly thought he would have already realized that, but in hindsight she knew she should have been clearer about it. Fortunately, Justin and Maarten had apparently bonded over their mutual war stories about each other's partners so any initial discomfort that had initially occurred had long been smoothed over.

"Justin!" she called out again when she didn't get a response. She noticed a sleek, black Mercedes limousine slowing down to a stop directly in front of the gallery; _this was his transportation? _ Her eyes widened in amazement; it had to be. This couldn't be a mere coincidence. "Your ride's here!"

Justin snatched up the additional tubes of dark brown, black, and navy blue he would need for his nighttime depiction of the skyline of Manhattan and hurriedly stuffed them into his oversized jacket pocket as he rushed back out into the gallery's main viewing area. "I'm coming," he told her breathlessly as he hurried over to her side. He looked out through the large display windows onto the street outside to observe Alfred waiting in the familiar black vehicle. "Shit, he's early," he said. "I'd better get going!"

"You really ARE travelling in style," she commented, observing a distinguished, older man emerging from the vehicle and walking around to open the back passenger door as he looked over at the gallery's entrance doors expectantly for his passenger. She knew Justin was being picked up and dropped off each day but she had no idea how opulent his transportation was until he informed her a little while ago that Maarten's driver would be picking him up from here today instead of at his apartment. "I knew you were being driven back and forth, but this is definitely a step up from the bus or the subway, isn't it?"

Justin nodded as he blushed in response. "Yeah, it's really too much," he stated, a little self-conscious still about being treated to such luxury. Alfred held his hand up to his forehead to shield his eyes form the setting sun and peer inside the gallery as Justin added, "I'd better get going; he's fanatical about being prompt. I'll see you tomorrow." In a flash he broke out into a virtual run as he headed toward the door, the tails of his jacket flying out behind him.

Tabitha watched in amusement as her young friend hastily flung the door open to scurry outside; she watched the driver nod in acknowledgment as he politely tipped his cap at Justin and waited for him to step inside before shutting the door firmly behind him. Returning to his place behind the driver's wheel a few seconds later, the vehicle slowly pulled out into traffic shortly afterward.

"This won't be the last time you get that treatment, Justin," she whispered as she watched them go. She knew this young man was going to make a name for himself, and something told her eventually she would be left hopelessly behind in the dirt as he gained further and further ground and moved on to more illustrious endeavors. "Knock 'em dead, Sweetie," she murmured sincerely before turning to go back to her office.

* * *

><p><em>Same Time <em>

"Right up there," Brian told the cabdriver as he leaned forward eagerly and placed his hand on top of the driver's headrest; now that he was almost reunited with his partner his heart was threatening to burst right out of his chest; in less than a minute he would be promptly sweeping him up into a fierce hug and bestowing a kiss on those soft, sweet lips that would curl his fucking toes off. "On the right," he instructed, trying hard to keep his voice level but having a hard time doing so, "that buff-colored art gallery building."

The driver silently nodded as he began to slow down to a stop behind a late-model black limo parked directly in front of the structure. Brian's eyes widened as a man exited the gallery and he instantly recognized the golden hair reflecting off the rapidly setting sun; Justin was walking confidently toward the vehicle whose backdoor was already open, a tall, imposing, uniformed driver holding the door open for him as he promptly climbed inside like he belonged there. Brian's mouth dropped open in confusion as the man walked smartly around the back of the car and entered the driver's side in preparation to leave. _What the fuck?_

As the cab started to come to a stop, he barked out, "Follow that limo in front of us!" The driver, apparently confused himself now, hesitated for a couple of seconds before Brian commanded, "Just do it! Don't lose him!" and the man promptly accelerated to keep the other vehicle in his sights.

Brian was dying to whip out his cell phone and call his lover to ask him what the hell was going on, but he knew if he did his intention to surprise him would promptly be exposed and he didn't yet know what was happening. So for the time being, he elected to follow the limo now squiring his partner around in hopes he could determine exactly what Justin was up to. Why in the world would he be travelling in a limo of all things? He certainly wasn't dressed for any gallery event; he knew Justin abhorred having to wear anything as pretentious as a tux or even a suit to showings of his artwork, but there was no way he would be wearing a worn-looking pair of jeans and an old, oversized shirt to meet potential clients, either. No, there was something else going on, but what? He frowned, his brows furrowing in puzzlement. _Justin, what are you up to?_ He wondered silently. He kept a tight grip on the top of the front seat as the driver kept close pursuit of the car ahead of him, Brian wondering how long a trip they were undertaking. He didn't care, though; he was going to stay in the damn taxi until his partner arrived at his destination – wherever it might be.

Finally, after several minutes and about a half-dozen traffic lights later, in a flash of irony he recognized the area as being close to where his hotel was; as far as he knew Justin didn't know anyone in this area of town. What the hell was he doing _here_? He watched intently, thankful for the streetlamps blanketing the quickly-darkening area as the limo's brake lights came on and it slowed down in front of an older but neat-looking building; a green-and-white striped awning was out front covering the entrance to the building and two parking valet attendants were standing on the sidewalk to greet incoming parties.

"Hang on," Brian instructed the driver. "Hold back for just a moment." He wanted to see whether Justin actually entered the building as he noted the tasteful-looking sign posted by the entrance: _Prestige Condominiums. _He wasn't familiar at all with the name; he couldn't recall Justin ever mentioning this place to him before. The taxi driver came to a stop a couple dozen feet away and put the car in neutral, not totally unaccustomed to these occasional clandestine requests; if the man wanted to run up his bill by playing detective as he idled there, he didn't have a problem with it.

Brian watched intently as the chauffeur again got out of the limo and walked around to open the rear passenger door; his eyes narrowed in disbelief as Justin emerged from the vehicle and another man he hadn't noticed before pushed away from his place against one of the awning's poles and walked directly up to him, placing his hands on Justin's upper arms like they were old friend and giving him a sort of 'air' kiss on the cheek, first one and then the other. "What the _fuck_?" he muttered in astonishment as he observed Justin smile warmly back at the man; he noticed the other man was wearing a pair of jeans that appeared to be spray painted on him, a silky-looking dark purple shirt opened into a V at the neck, and a smile that threatened to rival his partner's. He also noticed that he was hot as hell. His mouth gaped open as he saw them walk side by side toward the entrance and enter the building together, Justin laughing at something the other man said as they did so.

Brian clenched his hands tightly around the curve of the seatback as he quickly told the driver, "I'm getting out." He jammed his hand into his pocket to whip out his wallet and quickly pulled more than enough money out of it to cover his fare before he threw it down haphazardly onto the seat in front of him. He scooted over quickly in the tattered, navy-blue vinyl seat and had the door open within 30 seconds' time as he slammed it closed and took advantage of his long legs to run the few hundred feet up to the building's front entrance. He didn't even acknowledge the two valets standing on either side of the entrance, nor did he answer their shouts of inquiry as he yanked the front door open and rushed inside, taking a few seconds to get acclimated to the unfamiliar surroundings.

The lobby was decorated tastefully in understated elegance of polished marble and gleaming woodwork; a lone man stood behind the curved concierge desk and peered suspiciously over at him as he entered. "May I help you, Sir?" the man inquired, but Brian ignored him; he was too intent on figuring out where his partner – and that other man – had escaped to. Realizing Justin wasn't present anywhere in the general lobby area, he quickly glanced around, hearing the man behind the desk calling out for him to stop where he was but paying him no heed. He moved deeper into the lobby and noticed to his left a bank of elevators; his pulse sped up as he briefly spied his partner and the other man entering the elevator at the far end. "Justin!" he shouted, but it was too late; the car closed just before he could call out his name as he came rushing up to the now-closed elevator and pounded on the door in frustration as he heard the car began to climb upward. As he looked at the brass nameplate next to the operating button, he noticed to his shock that the elevator was apparently a private one leading up to a penthouse suite, adding even more to the mystery of what his partner was up to. _Just what sort of 'private' party are you having, Sunshine?_ He bit his lip, trying hard not to jump to conclusions, but nothing seemed to fit. Justin was supposed to be working feverishly this week on a portrait for a Christmas surprise for a client. It appears, though, that HE was the one that was being surprised. What reason could his partner have for meeting a sexy-looking man at his apartment? A penthouse apartment, no less? Was he coming here each night after he finished his painting for the day and then returning to his apartment just in time to talk to him? He knew Justin was beautiful to other men – he was constantly having to fling the persistent scum away from him whenever they were out in public together – but he thought they had finally reached a point where they were in a good place. Hell, they were even fucking raw! Now this. _Is this why you're so tired lately, Sunshine_?

He pressed the elevator button repeatedly but to no avail; nothing seemed to happen. Apparently it was controlled manually. He whirled around as he heard heavy footsteps rapidly approaching, recognizing the concierge from the main lobby.

"Sir, May I ask what business you have in this building?" the tall, African-American, imposing man asked him as he walked up to him cautiously. _What? Did he look like a common criminal? Then again, what sort of explanation could he give him? He didn't even know the other man's name, for fuck's sake!_

For once he was oddly less than glib as he stalled for time. "Uh…I'm in advertising and I was supposed to meet my client at 5:00 for an appointment in his apartment, and I'm running late." He desperately wished for either a vulnerable woman or a gay man to approach him, but he came up with neither as the other man's face hardened in doubt.

"And his name is?" the man asked cryptically, his suspicions aroused by the man's restless and agitated behavior. Anthony Clements had been a former Marine, a member of the military police even, and he knew odd behavior when he saw it. This man was impeccably dressed except for his tousled-looking hair, but that didn't mean he couldn't be a well-heeled cat burglar, either. The apartment owners paid him extremely well to keep riff-raff from showing up; he decided this man had exactly three seconds to explain what he was doing there or he would call security and have him picked up and promptly dragged by the scruff of his neck back onto the street where he belonged.

_Three…Two…_

"Anthony? Is there a problem?"

Clements turned around to greet Jacob Thomas, who had quietly walked up behind them. "I'm not sure, Sir," he answered, his suspicions even more aroused now that he knew the penthouse's owner wasn't upstairs. "This man claims he had an appointment with you at 5:00. Do you know him?"

Jacob, holding his overnight bag from his trip on his shoulder and his Gucci leather briefcase in his other hand, studied the set jaw of the tall, handsome man standing rigidly next to the private elevator, quietly eyeing him back with the same curious scrutiny. He had been able to come back early from his business trip and wanted to surprise his partner, so he had elected to take a taxi from the airport instead of calling Alfred to pick him up. He figured he could take Maarten out to the chophouse for an early dinner, and then, since the office didn't know he had wrapped things up early, the two of them could spend some much-needed time together until he had to return for one more day of work before they broke for the Christmas holiday. Now as he stood near the elevator he needed to enter, he shook his head firmly. "No, I've never seen this man before in my life. Just what do you want?" he probed, his attorney sense indicating the man was clearly agitated about something; he definitely didn't look like a typical criminal, though, but you couldn't always tell.

Brian decided it was time he told the truth – at least as much as he knew it – or he wasn't going to get anywhere. "I just saw my partner enter this elevator with another man and I want to know what the hell is going on. I want to make sure he's okay." That wasn't exactly the truth – Justin didn't look like he was under any duress earlier; in fact, he looked pretty damned relaxed to him. Just _how_ much relaxed was the question, though. "Listen, I just want to check on him and then we'll go. Can you just activate the damn elevator?"

"Now wait just a minute," Jacob replied. "This is the elevator to my penthouse. There's no reason your partner – whoever he is – would need to be up there at all." _Not with my own partner up there,_ he couldn't help thinking. "How do I know you're telling us the truth? What did this 'other man' look like?" he asked.

Brian huffed out an impatient, angry breath, not in the mood to play guessing games. He sighed, though, knowing he was going to need their assistance to find out what Justin was doing. "He was about my height, dark curly hair, muscular build. He was outside waiting for my partner Justin who arrived in a damn limo. The two looked pretty cozy out there, by the way, unless your building's standard policy is to greet all their guests with a kiss on the cheek and escort them in personally."

Jacob frowned; what the hell was going on? That fit his partner to a tee. And why would he be outside waiting for another man to show up? It wasn't like Maarten to do that; he was still getting used to his bearings here in New York and tended to want to stick close to home when he was away. For all his ability as an effective criminal attorney, Maarten was still surprisingly reticent about setting out on his own when he was gone. It wouldn't be like him to be standing outside waiting for someone to arrive, although kissing someone on the cheek wasn't too out of the ordinary; his partner was very affectionate toward his friends, but this man didn't sound like any 'friend' HE was acquainted with. He felt his blood beginning to boil as he, too, pondered what was going on. Maarten had said nothing about any sort of meeting he had scheduled the last time they had spoken.

"Do you mind?" Brian growled. "Let me in this damn elevator."

"Mr. Thomas, perhaps I should call security," Clements advised. He could more than take care of this intruder by himself – having at least 40 pounds on the other guy – but if the man became too agitated, it might get ugly. The apartment owners had been adamant, anyway, that he let security handle any trouble instead of taking charge of it himself; he liked his job and he was well-paid for it – the last thing he wanted, then, was to jeopardize it by taking matters into his own hands against policy.

Jacob shook his head as he eyed the other man. He was clearly agitated and confused, but didn't appear to be the violent type. "No, Anthony, I don't think that will be necessary." He paused for a moment, still trying to decide the best course of action as he asked, "Did you actually see Maarten and this other man enter the lobby before Mr….uh,…?"

Brian digested that new piece of information. _Maarten…_ _Who the fuck is Maarten_? "Kinney," he stated with barely-controlled patience as he gritted his teeth. "Brian Kinney."

Jacob nodded. "Before Mr. Kinney did?"

Anthony nodded. "As a matter of fact, I did; Mr. Van Den Berg said hello to me before he and the other man walked down the hallway toward the elevator here and entered it."

Brian curled his hands into a fist, feeling like they were wasting precious time. Even though it didn't look like Justin was in any danger, he was fed up with all the time they were wasting. "Now do you mind?" he asked as he held his hand up. "Let's get ON with it!"

Wanting to satisfy his own curiosity, Jacob reached inside his pocket and retrieved his key to the private elevator. Inserting it into a lock right above the button, he turned it to the left and then back to the center, pulling it out as he pressed the access button. A few seconds later, the three men could hear the whoosh of the car as it smoothly descended back down to the main floor.

"About time," Brian muttered as he impatiently danced softly back and forth on the balls of his feet. As soon as the car came to a stop and the doors began to open, he rushed inside and punched the 'close door' button, unwilling to wait for the other man to enter. Anthony solicitously held the door open as Jacob entered, following along right behind him as before the doors began to close and the car slowly crept upward.

"What? Afraid I'm going to strangle him with my bare hands on the way up?" Brian taunted him as he let out a tense breath. _What are you doing up there, Justin_? His mind kept asking as it seemed to take forever to get up to the 22nd floor. The elevator's chime clicked off each floor in agonizingly slow motion as he met the gaze of the other men staring suspiciously over at him from his place on the other side of the elevator. He stared over at them unflinchingly; he could tell the two strangers didn't trust him, but he didn't care. All he wanted at that moment was to find his partner and discover what the fuck he was doing here.

* * *

><p><em>Inside the Penthouse<em>

Justin glanced up as Maarten emerged from the bedroom adorned once more in his dark blue silk robe. He smiled at him as he noted, "That was fast." It seemed like the man had only been gone for maybe thirty seconds since he had wandered down the end of the hallway to change out of his jeans and shirt from before.

"I've had a lot of practice with this, remember?" he said with a laugh. "Besides, I figured why waste time? The sooner I get back into 'costume,' the sooner you can get finished and I can put on some warm clothes. Flannel is sounding more and more fashionable right about now."

Justin laughed as he spread out the paint-stained, gray burlap tarp under his easel and prepared to go retrieve his painting for tonight's session. Maarten still hadn't figured out how to work the thermostat properly; it had been a running joke among them all week long.

He paused for just a moment to walk over to gaze in awe at the wondrous scene below them, not uncomfortable any longer with the fact that a gorgeous specimen of a man was parading around in practically nothing behind him. He couldn't believe the view – it had to be the most magnificent vista he had ever seen; the Hudson River was spread out before them, lights of every color reflecting varying kaleidoscopes of patterns as boats slowly meandered up and down the placid water. Skyscrapers of every size and height were lit up profusely, the lights seeming to twinkle all around them like a star-studded sky. It was simply amazing, and he couldn't wait to use it as the background for his painting.

He looked around, noticing Maarten was gone; where had he disappeared to _now_? In some ways he reminded him of Brian. Both of them seemed to be able to move around like a stealthy cat, almost as if their feet weren't even touching the ground. Clad in bare feet now, Maarten had somehow managed to walk right by him undetected. "Maarten?" he called out. A few seconds later, he watched as the other man came walking in from the area of the kitchen with two wine glasses in his hand.

"I thought our imminent conclusion to this hectic week deserved a little recognition," he explained as he handed a glass to Justin and stood next to him looking at the view; from their vantage point high up, it was almost as if the world were at their feet. He held his glass up to say, "Jacob introduced this to me when I first came here to the States; it's his favorite wine and he got me hooked on it. I don't think he would mind if we helped ourselves to a bottle, considering it's for a good cause. Take a sip and tell me what you think."

Justin nodded. "Okay, but just a little. We really need to get started soon if I hope to wind this project up on time. I have to work on the finishing touches with your pose and then get to work on the background."

"Ever the taskmaster," Maarten teased him as they clinked glasses together and Justin raised the goblet to his lips to take a tentative sip. Maarten lifted his eyebrows in question as Justin nodded. "It's good," he assured him. "A little sweeter than Beam, though," he joked.

"That's your favorite liquor?" The name of the world's most famous Scotch was recognizable in any language.

"Well, not exactly," Justin told him as he took another sip. "I like it sometimes. Brian used to drink like a fish when he was younger; he still likes it occasionally to relax with, but he's cut back quite a bit since then." In a way, it was amazing just how much Brian _had_ changed in some ways. Oh, he was still king of the advertising world, and was just as driven and headstrong as he always had been. But over the years, he had shifted his priorities somewhat to where, dare he say it, he and Gus were more important to him than whether every man in gay Pittsburgh noticed him or whether he could drink someone under the table on a dare.

Maarten nodded as he raised the glass and took a small drink of his own, savoring the tang as it went down his throat. He supposed he liked this particular wine most of all because it made him think of his partner as he swirled it around in his glass thoughtfully, wondering how Jacob's out-of-town venture was going.

Justin peered over at him, noticing his friend's abrupt change of demeanor. "You miss him, don't you?" he asked, knowing quite well what it felt like to be without the man you love. Maarten nodded with a smile as Justin added, "I can certainly identify with that." He gazed out at the astounding scenery a little longer before adding, "Well, why don't we get back to work so we can look forward to _both_ of our partners being with us again?"

Maarten nodded. "Sounds good; I'm ready." He took both their half-empty glasses and set them down nearby on the coffee table, making sure to place them on a rattan-type, woven mat in the center of the glass surface; Jacob was fastidious about not leaving water marks on the furniture. He slipped off his silk robe and slung it casually over the back of one of the chairs, shivering as the coolness of the air hit his exposed skin.

"I'll be back right back," Justin told him as he reached inside his pocket to retrieve the laundry room key. Dangling it in front of Maarten tauntingly, he grinned as he turned to walk down the hallway to locate his painting, relieved that his last project before Christmas was coming to an end. Just a couple more days and he would finally be able to return home and be with Brian again.

* * *

><p>Brian bounced up and down in agitation as the elevator finally began to slow down. He started to move toward the elevator's exit doors before Anthony placed a hand out in front of him to bar his progress. "<em>I'll<em> go first," he commanded as Brian glared over at him. He was tempted to simply shove the man's burly arm aside, but he knew he was outnumbered as well as outweighed by the one man alone, so he reluctantly decided to follow the man's orders – at least for now.

As soon as the doors had opened, however, he was out of the car in a shot, looking around furiously for signs of Justin. "Hurry up!" he growled at the two other men as they joined him outside in the hall, watching as they made a turn toward the right where a single door was located at the far end. Brian followed closely at their feet as the three of them made their way to a door marked simply "_PH22_." He watched as Jacob fished in his pocket to come up with the key to his penthouse as he turned it smoothly in the lock and pushed the door open.

His heart beating furiously in his chest, Brian manhandled his way immediately into the space, taking but a second to register the immenseness of the residence as he pushed further inside, looking around furiously for his partner. His eyes almost bugged out of his head as he saw the same man he had seen earlier outside the front of the building standing near a huge wall of windows; only this time he wasn't wearing anything but a surprised expression on his face. Two half-empty, crystal wine glasses were sitting on an elegant coffee table a few feet away. "What the hell?" Brian growled as he bounded up to the other man, Jacob and Anthony rushing to catch up to him.

"Who are YOU?" Maarten demanded, trying hard to maintain a sense of dignity as he stood there without a stitch of clothing on. He thought the man looked oddly familiar, but he didn't have much time to contemplate that before Brian rose to his full height and announced, "I'm Justin's partner, you asshole!"

Jacob would have normally rushed over to come to his partner's defense, but at the moment he was temporarily immobilized by the sight of Maarten standing there totally nude in their penthouse's living room. He frowned, the cold seeds of doubt settling into his stomach like a leaden weight. _What was going on? _ He trusted his partner completely, but this was damn peculiar and defied any explanation HE could think of…

"Maarten…" he sputtered out in confusion as Anthony walked up to stand beside him, watching as Brian's face turned redder and redder; he had seen that look before, and he knew what was probably about to happen. He started to walk briskly over to Brian in hopes of restraining him before things got of hand, but he was a few seconds too late.

Cocking his right arm back, Brian promptly delivered a sound punch to the man's chin as Maarten reeled backward in pain. "Where IS he?" he roared as the other man managed to stumble over to the couch to flop down into a sitting position, his face contorted in a mixture of shock and pain as he watched Brian warily in case he tried to escalate the situation further. Brian, however, was more concerned with finding his partner.

"Justin! I know you're here! Get your fucking ass out here NOW!" Brian started to rush out of the room to find him but was grabbed by Anthony before he could proceed any farther. "Let me go, you fucker!" Brian yelled.

"Maarten!" Jacob cried out as he watched Kinney punch him. He began to rush over to his partner to see if he was all right, his doubts receding into the background as his worry for the man he loved superseded them, but he stopped dead in his tracks as a young, blond-haired man came unexpectedly running out from the back of the penthouse. He was wearing an unbuttoned, paint-splattered, oversized denim shirt with a dark-blue tee shirt underneath, smudged, light-colored blue jeans and worn sneakers, but he was still quite beautiful. His golden-colored hair was reflecting off the overhead track lighting and his fiery eyes were a lighter shade of blue than Maarten's, and he wore an angry expression on his face as he stopped several feet away from them and looked directly over at Kinney.

"Brian!" Justin yelled, stunned at the sight before him. "What in the _fuck_ are you DOING?" Brian watched in disbelief as he ran over to Maarten and knelt down in front of him, extending his right hand to grab the other man's robe lying nearby on the back of one of the matching chairs. He handed it to Maarten as he asked worriedly, "Are you all right?"

Maarten nodded weakly back at him as he said ruefully, "Now I realize why he looked familiar. He packs quite a wallop." He rubbed his chin painfully as he flinched in response. "I'm okay," he finally assured Justin with a brief nod as the blond helped him slide his robe on and Maarten pulled it together with the matching sash to cover himself up, feeling decidedly self-conscious now.

Justin stood up and whirled to face his partner, not paying the other two men much mind. "What in the _HELL_ are you doing here?" he growled. As soon as he had heard the shocking sound of Brian's voice, he had promptly rushed back out before he had had a chance to retrieve his painting.

"I might ask YOU the same question!" Brian yelled back at him, not bothering to explain he was there to surprise him; somehow that seemed almost ludicrous now. "THIS is how you've been spending your time the past couple of weeks? THIS is why you're so tired at night when I call? No _wonder_ your hand's been bothering you!"

"Maarten, what is going _on_?" Jacob said to his partner as he walked over to him and sat down on the couch, his attention vacillating between him, Anthony and the two strangers in their apartment. "Please tell me there's a logical explanation for why you and…and this _man_ are in our apartment together." He swallowed the lump in his throat before he added, "And why you're not wearing any fucking clothes."

Maarten and Justin exchanged identical looks of disgust over their partner's distrust of each other as Maarten spoke up first. "It was supposed to be a surprise for you," he began to explain as he looked over at Jacob who was still sitting next to him on the couch, a puzzled expression on his face. He glanced over at Brian who had emitted a loud harrumph at that statement.

"It was a surprise all right," Brian retorted as he glared over at Justin, his body still kept firmly bound by the taller man whose hands were wrapped around him from behind like a steel vise. He struggled to break free, but the other man wouldn't budge.

"Will you let him explain?" Justin snapped at him, his eyes flashing. "You might as well tell both of them at the same time, Maarten."

Brian huffed out an angry breath as Maarten nodded. "By all means, _Maarten_…let's hear it."

Justin shook his head, still in disbelief that not only was his partner here in person with him but he had just coldcocked his client. "Maarten…" he urged him.

His friend swiveled his body toward Jacob as he told him, "You know how you always wanted to have a portrait of me done?"

Jacob frowned. "Yeah…"

Maarten appeared embarrassed as he glanced at Brian and Anthony briefly before he added a little more softly, "A _nude_ portrait?"

Justin watched Brian's face began to transform from deep-rooted jealousy to a semblance of epiphany as his partner took a moment to glance around and noticed for the first time a familiar-looking, paint-smudged gray tarp and a portable easel set up several feet away. "Shit," Brian muttered under his breath as he began to realize what might be going on. He tried to catch Justin's eye, but his stubborn partner averted his gaze and focused it instead on the men sitting side by side on the couch.

Jacob nodded as he peered over and studied the blond-haired, slender man standing nearby, his arms crossed over his chest in indignation. He understood now why he had seen paint stains all over his shirt. "You were having _him_ paint your portrait for my Christmas present?" he asked as Maarten nodded.

"We _had_ been doing it during the day while you were at work. I had Alfred picking him up and dropping him off in the limo each day so he could bring his supplies back and forth safely. But when you told me you were going to be gone for a couple of nights, I wanted to take advantage of that so I could have Justin paint the skyline at night for the portrait. I know how much you love that view." He let out a deep breath. "I just didn't figure on you getting home early." He rubbed his chin again, making sure nothing was broken. It hurt like hell and would probably show a major bruise there soon, but at least Kinney didn't appear to have done any major damage – at least not to his chin. As he stared at Justin and his partner, however, and noticed Justin's rigid posture he had a feeling his chin wasn't the only thing that was going to have to be repaired.

Jacob sighed in relief as he took Maarten's hand. "I was able to wrap up my business in Chicago earlier and thought we could spend a quiet night together tonight. I was trying to surprise _you._" He glanced over at Anthony, who was still holding onto Kinney. "You can let him go, Anthony," he told the other man, confident now that he finally understood what was going on and would not cause any further harm.

"Are you sure?" the man responded warily; he could tell that Kinney was quite strong by the way he had been pulling to break free. The man was tall and lean but he was also muscular and exhibited surprising strength. He supposed the adrenalin rush you received by being as jealous as he had been helped fuel the man's power, also, but he noticed in the past several seconds that his momentum had seemed to drain out of him as he relaxed a little in his arms.

"Yeah," Jacob told him firmly as he lightly caressed Maarten's hand in comfort. "Everything's fine. In fact, I think you can leave us alone now." He gazed into his partner's eyes as the man nodded in agreement.

Anthony did as he was told, releasing Brian, who tugged the tails of his shirt down to straighten them. He continued to eye the man warily as he advised Jacob, "I don't think that's wise, Mr. Thomas. You saw what he did."

"I insist," Jacob said, no longer concerned about the other man; he could tell by the expression on his face that he had ceased to be a threat to anyone. "I can handle it." He rose from his position on the couch and reached into his pocket to retrieve a twenty. He held it out to the other man as he said, "That will be all, Anthony," he said authoritatively. "Thank you for your assistance."

Anthony cast one more look of warning at Brian before he politely nodded at Jacob and said, "As you wish. Gentlemen," he said as he acknowledged Maarten and Justin, deciding to ignore the hotheaded brunet situated nearby as he walked over to the penthouse door and opened it, closing it softly behind him.

Justin sighed as the moment was diffused. He turned to face Jacob apologetically. "I was hoping to get to meet you," he told the other man. "But this wasn't quite the manner I had in mind."

Jacob nodded as he walked over toward Justin. He extended his hand out to Justin, who accepted it as he said, "Jacob Thomas."

Justin smiled politely. "Justin Taylor. Nice to meet you. Maarten's told me a lot about you." He turned to glare over at Brian, who was standing with his hands in his jacket pockets, eyeing him mutely. It was a dramatic departure from his previous belligerence. "I see you've already met Brian," he said coolly.

Jacob grinned. "In a manner of speaking." He glanced around the room curiously. "I see _evidence_ of a painting being worked on, Maarten, but where is the finished product? I think after all this you don't need to keep it a secret any longer." He looked over at Brian before adding, "I think maybe it'd be better to avoid any more secrets, don't you?"

Maarten exchanged a glance with Justin before telling him, "It's not completely finished yet, and Justin won't even let ME see it until it's done. He was almost finished with my part of it, but he still needs to fill in the background with the skyline."

Justin looked over at Jacob sheepishly. "It's a quirk of mine, kind of like a superstition. I don't like showing the painting until it's completely done." He looked between Brian and Jacob before he decided, however, that maybe he had painted enough of Maarten after all. "I think Maarten's posed long enough for me that I can do the rest without him now. I just need to brush his part up a little and then all I'll have to do is finish the background part." He turned to look at his friend and smiled. "You can go change into your _flannel_ now," he advised as Maarten laughed in response. "Inside joke," he added as Jacob looked at him in puzzlement for an explanation.

"Are you sure, Justin?" Maarten asked him as he stood up, the robe barely covering his knees. "I don't want you to be rushed." He peered over at Justin's partner, who at least had the courtesy to appear uncomfortable over what he had done earlier.

Justin nodded with a smile. "I'm sure…Really," he assured him softly as he stared over at Brian who was stonily quiet now. "Why don't you go change and I'll go get the painting out of the laundry room? I can work on the background independently now."

Maarten nodded after a few seconds, unable to avoid noticing how the other two men were staring at each other. "Uh…Jacob? Why don't you join me and you can tell me all about your trip to Chicago. I think I could use a nice, hot shower right about now, too." The idea of having warm water flowing over his goose-pimpled skin and being able to dress in warm clothes for a change sounded extremely appealing, and he knew his friend and Kinney had a lot to talk about.

Jacob walked over as he slid his arm around his partner's and planted a gentle kiss on his cheek. "Sounds good," he whispered, knowing what Maarten's motivations were. Maarten always _was _a softy when it came to romance, although in this case he suspected Kinney was going to have to do a lot of fancy footwork in order to get out of _this_ jam. "Justin, it was nice meeting you…despite the rather unorthodox circumstances," he added meaningfully as he peered over briefly at Brian. "I can't wait to see the finished result."

Justin nodded with a smile. "It was a pleasure meeting you, too. I hope next time it will be under a more _pleasant _setting." He noticed Maarten bestowing a sympathetic gaze on him as he watched the two men amble down the hallway, disappearing out of sight as they neared the bedroom.

Not bothering to look behind him, Justin started to follow after them with the intention of retrieving his painting when Brian finally came back to life and grabbed his arm as he tried to walk by. "Justin…"

But Justin wrenched his arm away. "I've got work to do," he stated frostily as he walked down the hallway toward the laundry room, not even turning around to see if Brian was watching or not. He opened the door to enter, picking up his portfolio containing the painting and turning to walk back down the hallway toward the living room, observing Brian in the same spot where he had left him. The tension was thick as a shroud of heavy fog as he silently padded over to the portable easel and, placing his canvas back in its place, proceeded to dig out his other painting supplies as if nothing was amiss.

"You could have told me what sort of 'portrait' you were doing, Justin," he heard Brian quietly say behind him. "Why did you feel the need to keep it such a big secret?" There was pain evident in his voice as Justin finally turned around to face him, his hands on his hips as he held a long-handled paintbrush in his hand, poised to resume his task.

"Why do you _think_, Brian? Precisely because of what you did tonight! I KNEW you would react exactly the way you did if you found out I was painting a nude portrait of Maarten in his home! And I was right! In fact, you even surpassed my expectations! Congratulations!" he added sarcastically. "How did you find me here, anyway?"

Brian walked up to stand next to his partner, dying to crush him to his body and silence his impertinence with a kiss; he was standing so close to him he could smell the familiar citrus scent of Justin's shampoo. But his dignity wouldn't let him cast his feeling aside; he didn't feel totally responsible for what had happened, and he resented having to take the sole blame for the unfortunate, embarrassing incident that had occurred as a result. "Don't change the subject. If you had told me the truth in the first place, Justin, none of this would have happened!"

"Don't try and push the blame off on me, Brian! If you trusted me and didn't jump to conclusions all the time, I wouldn't have felt a _need_ to keep it from you!"

Brian huffed out an angry breath. "This is getting us nowhere…" He muttered in disgust, raking his hand through his hair in frustration. "Just admit it, Sunshine; you fucked up."

Justin's mouth hung open in disbelief. "_I _fucked up? Everything would have been just fine if you had stuck to our original plan and waited for me to come home! I was fully intending to have this done by the end of the week and be at Britin by Christmas Eve."

"And poor stupid Brian Kinney would have been none the wiser…" Brian added. "Is that the way you define honesty, Sunshine?"

Justin shook his head in aggravation as he turned to walk over to the picture window; the thousands of twinkling lights staring back at him that had held such a fascination for him earlier had suddenly dimmed to a dull glow as he replied, "I have a project to finish, Brian. Go on back home," he said wearily.

Brian lifted his hand to reach it out toward his partner, torn between wanting to just give in and hold him in his arms and needing to stand his ground on principle. He squared his jaw in disappointment as he thought about what he had hoped he and Justin would be doing tonight – having a joyous, never-ending fuck fest in their king-sized bed at the Peninsula as they celebrated their early reunion before they travelled back to Britin together. He watched as Justin kept his back to him as he picked up his paintbrush and began to squeeze some midnight-blue paint onto his palette in preparation to resume his painting and he dropped his hand to his side in defeat.

"Fine," Brian spat out as he reached inside his jacket pocket and found a hard, plastic key card to the hotel. He flung it onto the ground as Justin turned to look at what he had thrown. "Here – Room 212. We wouldn't want it to go to waste."

Silently, he twirled around and tromped over to the door to fling it open, the heavy door banging against the wall as Justin flinched in response. He stood there for several seconds, paintbrush at the ready, before he slowly raised it and the nighttime sky slowly began to appear on the canvas, the hum of the elevator slowly diminishing as it crept downward carrying his partner away from him.

* * *

><p><em>Thanks to Boriqua522 for checking this over for me.:)<em>


	6. Finishing Up Loose Ends

_A/N: Justin realizes he needs to take responsibility for his actions; he prepares to return to Britin._

* * *

><p><p>

The penthouse was eerily quiet as Justin put his paintbrush down in his water jar and reached over to retrieve the hotel key card lying nearby, immediately recognizing the photo of the Peninsula Hotel on the front. His earlier words of righteous anger toward his partner began to diminish as Lewis' words came back to haunt him from earlier: _I just hope it doesn't blow up in your face, my friend. _

Well, _something_ had blown up all right - or _SOMEONE – _and as he stood there fingering the hard plastic card in his hand he realized he had no one to blame but himself. Yes, Brian had overreacted just as he suspected he would, but if he had been upfront with him from the start he suspected the reaction might not have been so harsh. Why hadn't he just told Brian the whole fucking story then?

He sighed; he knew the reason why. He had figured on Brian never knowing who the subject was, and assumed he could finish it up in short order and return home to Britin with his partner being none the wiser. _Yeah…That worked out real well for you, didn't it_, he thought, suddenly feeling like an idiot and a total asshole.

Feeling like his feet had suddenly been freed from their captivity, he whirled around to quickly rush out of the penthouse, thankful the front door was still open as he ran down the hall to the elevator; he frantically pushed the 'down' button over and over again, but it was no use. It was the only elevator to that floor and Brian was presently using it – using it to move farther and farther away from him.

_Damn it! _He banged his hands against the wall in frustration and shame before a sudden thought occurred to him and he looked around furiously, spotting another door at the opposite end of the hall. Jogging over to it, he flung the door open and flew down the steps, one agonizing floor at a time, round and round until his head was spinning at the sheer speed of his pace. Finally, panting and overexerted, he arrived at the bottom of the stairs and opening the exit door he rushed out into the lobby, noticing only the concierge sitting behind his desk. Anthony watched with mouth agape at his sudden appearance as Justin shouted breathlessly without any preamble, "Where did he go?"

Anthony smirked; this entire evening had been quite eventful and not in a very good way. "If you mean that pain in the ass that just ran out of here, he's gone."

Justin's heart dropped. He didn't take time to issue a snappy retort at the man's less-than-flattering name for his partner as he rushed full tilt toward the revolving door and gave it a violent shove, trying frantically to speed up the lumbering contraption but finding it laboriously slow. Finally, he managed to exit the apartment building and glanced around urgently for Brian, just in time to see the tail lights of a taxicab pulling away in an unexpected rain that had begun to fall. "Brian!" he shouted as loudly as he could as he began to run toward it. But almost as if his partner had orchestrated it, the vehicle began to pick up speed as it merged into the light traffic and was soon out of his reach.

"Bri-an!" He shouted again, but it was too late. Justin stopped in his tracks on the sidewalk, his face, hair and clothes quickly becoming wet while the darkness slowly swallowed up his partner's escape. He sighed heavily in frustration and regret. Shoulders drooping in defeat, he turned and trudged dejectedly back inside the apartment building to find Maarten and Jacob standing in the lobby waiting for him, both fully clad now in casual pairs of jeans and cotton shirts. He walked up to them as Maarten peered over at him sympathetically; out of the corner of his eye he thought he saw the concierge watching their interaction curiously, but he wasn't sure; frankly, also, he didn't care.

"He left?" his friend asked softly.

Justin swallowed the lump in his throat as water droplets dripped onto the floor, feeling totally spent, both physically as well as mentally. "Yeah," he whispered. "Damn it." He let out a huff, a sound of both disgust as well as sorrow over the mess he had managed to cause.

"Go after him," Maarten urged him. "Make him listen to reason. Tell him that you made a mistake."

Justin sighed as he shook his head. "You don't know Brian. He won't listen to me right now; he's way too upset with me." He looked over at his friend whose face was starting to bruise and he felt even worse. Not only had he hurt the man that he loved, he had indirectly hurt Maarten as well; only one was emotional while the other one was physical. "Does it hurt a lot?" he asked quietly.

Knowing how awful Justin was already feeling, Maarten shook his head in an attempt to assuage his guilt as he made light of the situation. "It's okay," he assured him. "It's not that bad. I barely felt it. It won't even show up from the angle you're painting me," he teased with a gentle smile.

His attempt to make Justin feel better didn't have much of an effect, though; Justin's face was a reflection of his guilt as he held out the hotel card and advised them, "He had booked a room at the Peninsula for us." He squeezed his eyes shut, trying hard to stop the tears that threatened to fall before he opened them back up and admitted painfully, "He's right; I really _did_ fuck up." He shook his head in self-recrimination. "I was so stupid! Why didn't I just _tell_ him! What was I afraid of? Fuck!"

"I'm sorry, Justin," Jacob told him softly from his place by Maarten's side; Maarten had had the opportunity to fill him in earlier about what sort of guy Justin was, enough to know that he seemed like a decent man who was only trying to finish a project on time so he could get home to his partner; unfortunately, his plan to avoid any 'complications' along the way seemed to have blown up in his face. "I feel responsible."

Justin frowned. "Why do YOU feel responsible?"

"I let him come up with me in the elevator." He clamped his left hand on his partner's shoulder. "He was waiting down here like a caged animal, trying to use the private elevator when I ran into him a little while ago. He said he had seen you and Maarten together outside when you had arrived and tried to follow you in here. He didn't quite make it, though, before you entered the elevator and he was trying to go after you when I arrived."

He let out a heavy breath as he explained, "Anthony wanted to call security, but your partner is a very persuasive man." Justin gave him a look that said _don't I know it_ before he added, "He told me he was worried about your safety and wanted to make sure you were all right."

Justin snorted softly. "I doubt that was his main motivation," he commented dryly. In fact, he knew _exactly_ what had motivated him and safety hadn't been it at all; Brian's tendency to jump to conclusions and ask questions later was the main reason why he hadn't come clean with him in the first place, but now the whole thing had disintegrated into a major mess.

Jacob nodded. "Yeah, I know that NOW, of course. But at the time I was a little curious myself as to what was going on; he had described Maarten perfectly, so I knew it had to be him that you were with." He glanced over at his partner as he admitted, "I guess I was feeling a little on the jealous side, too. If I had trusted my _own_ partner, I could have just made him wait here until I found out what was going on, and none of this would have happened. I could have sent you downstairs afterward and you could have explained."

Justin shook his head. "You really think Brian would have been satisfied to wait for me down _here_?" Jacob shrugged as he advised him, "You don't know Brian like I do. I don't know how he would have done it, but he would have found a way to get up there somehow." Any other time, Brian would have probably just fucked the concierge or some other willing party in order to bribe them to do it; of course, now that they were monogamous he knew Brian wouldn't have resorted to his typical method, but he still would have found some way to use his enormous charm and intelligence on some unsuspecting sap to worm his way up to Jacob and Maarten's apartment. Ironic, then, that while he trusted Brian to be faithful to him, he hadn't given Brian the same privilege. He hadn't had enough faith in Brian's trust in HIM to be upfront about what was going on and now he was paying the price.

The reality of what he had done washed over him like a painful tidal wave as he told the other men, "No, I should have told him the whole truth to begin with and then none of this would have even happened. I have no one to blame but myself for this mess."

"Everyone makes mistakes, my friend," Maarten told him softly as he glanced over at Jacob contritely. "I suppose my surprise gift to you could be considered _one_ of them." When he had first thought of having a portrait done for his partner, he never in a million years suspected that it would lead to this sort of fiasco.

Jacob smiled at him and shook his head as he pulled him closer to place a peck on the cheek. "No, it wasn't," he told him. "It was a wonderful idea and I love you for thinking about it. You had no idea it would backfire the way it did." Maarten nuzzled his neck briefly in gratitude before the two looked over at Justin, both feeling a little guilty about their happiness when someone else was obviously so miserable at the moment. The two exchanged a look before Jacob nodded silently as Maarten said, "Justin, the painting can wait to be completed. It's more important you make amends with Brian first. We'll still be here after Christmas. Take care of what you need to do first and then you can worry about finishing the painting afterward."

Justin was touched by Maarten's thoughtfulness, but torn over what to do. He had a strong suspicion that Brian was presently in no mood to listen to him, and he was anal about leaving any work of his uncompleted. He had never done that to any client, and he would feel awful if somehow it was never finished. Was that more important, though, than risking his and Brian's relationship?

His answer was clear as he nodded at him. "Thank you," he whispered sincerely as one worry crept into his mind briefly. "But I left everything upstairs. I'll have to follow you back up to pick my cell and wallet up and my art supplies." He grimaced at his wet state of dress. "I'll need to borrow a towel, too." He looked toward the door, yearning to rush back out and find a taxi in an attempt to locate Brian, but something told him he wouldn't be successful anyway; Brian was a consummate escape artist when he wanted to be and he knew he was putting that skill to good work right now. He wouldn't be surprised if Brian was already out of town within an hour or two, wending his way back to the Pitts, but he had to at least try to speak to Brian before he left. He fingered the hotel key card in his hand, hoping maybe this might be his chance to see him again.

If he happened to be unsuccessful, he _did_ know one place where Brian would be shortly, though; his partner had promised Gus and the Munchers that he would host them for Christmas, and they were due to arrive Saturday afternoon. _Well_, _they won't be the ONLY ones there_, he thought with determination. _You can run but you can't hide, Mr. Kinney_…

"Justin?" He heard his name called as he came out of his reverie to see the two men eyeing him with concern. "Let's go back up and get your things and dry you off. Maybe you can try to call Brian from there."

Somehow he didn't think that would do much good at the moment – he had a strong inkling that Brian wouldn't answer his calls anyway – but at least he could make a start at reconciliation by leaving him a message. He nodded mutely in resignation as the three of them moved back toward the elevator, still resting on the first floor where Maarten and Jacob had left it. A few seconds later, they were on their way back up, the partners eyeing their friend sympathetically in the somewhat awkward silence.

"It'll all work out, Justin, you'll see," Maarten finally murmured as they approached the 22nd floor. "He didn't get that upset for nothing; that man is crazy about you. And I know how much you love _him_."

"Yeah, well, Brian may love me, but he's a pretty stubborn bastard, too, when he wants to be," Justin grumbled as he fidgeted awkwardly with the buttons of his oversized painting shirt now wet from the rain, silently urging the elevator car to go faster but knowing there was no way to do that.

Jacob and Maarten glanced at each other from their place in the elevator, both feeling sorry for their new friend. Who would have thought that a Christmas present would have spelled so much heartache for him?

As soon as the elevator stopped, Justin rushed out the door, the other two men following along quickly behind them; the entrance to their penthouse had been left unlocked in their haste, confident in the knowledge that no one else had access to the elevator and the access stairs were only open from the top down. "It's open," Maarten called out as Justin nodded and flung the door open to enter, not bothering to close it behind him. He took just enough time to grab his painting and slide it into the portfolio as the two men walked in.

He was no longer concerned whether Maarten peeked or not; that had quickly lost relevance. "Can you stow this and my other supplies for me until I have a chance to finish it?" he asked as he handed the portfolio to his friend.

"Of course," Maarten told him. He smiled softly as Justin retrieved his cell phone and wallet from the nearby coffee table and flipped his phone open.

"I promise not to peek, either." Maarten assured him as Jacob left to go fetch a bath towel for him.

Justin managed a slight smile of his own as he nodded, biting his lip nervously as he punched in the single shortcut button for Brian's cell and heard it ring. "Come on, Brian; pick up," he pleaded as he began to slowly move toward the door to leave, but it simply went into his voicemail. "Damn," he muttered. He couldn't really say he was surprised, though.

"Here, Justin," Jacob told him as he returned with a large-sized, chocolate brown bath sheet. Justin accepted it with a nod of gratitude as he took just a few moments to dry himself and his clothes off as much as possible before he handed it back to Jacob.

"I've gotta go," he told them. "I promise to return as soon as I get this mess straightened up. IF I get it straightened up," he muttered.

"You will," Maarten assured him as he squeezed his shoulder briefly in comfort. "Listen, you want me to call Alfred to come pick up you? He could be here from his apartment within five minutes. I'll have him take you anywhere you need to go."

Justin shook his head. "No, I'll grab a taxi – I need to find Brian." He took just a moment to stop at the door as he turned back to say, "I'm sorry about all this."

"Go," Maarten urged him as Jacob nodded. "And we'll see you after the holidays – go find your partner."

Justin nodded as he rushed out of the penthouse and back to the elevator, hoping he wasn't too late.

* * *

><p><em>Thirty Minutes Later<em>

Justin raced into the Peninsula Hotel as soon as the taxi had stopped, unable to reach Brian on his phone despite several voicemails and texts. The stubborn man was refusing to acknowledge either method; it was not a big surprise but still a disappointment nonetheless.

He didn't even bother to stop at the lobby desk, opting instead to rush over to the elevator bank, thankfully reaching a car just as it was going up. As soon as the elevator had stopped on the second floor and the doors had opened, he paid no mind to anyone wanting to get off as he shoved his way out and, with a quick look to get his bearings, ran full tilt down the hallway until he reached Room 212. Jamming the card into the slot and waiting for it to turn green, he flung the door open to look inside. "Brian?" he called out anxiously as soon as he entered, but there was no response. A quick rush over to the bathroom and a check of the closet and dresser drawers confirmed his worst fear: Brian had already left; every stitch of designer clothing, his laptop, his toiletries, all of it was gone – the suite was devoid of any signs of occupation. If it hadn't been for the unchanged bed and the coffee cup in the sink, it would have been as if no one had ever been there. In defeat, he walked over and sat down on the bed, placing his hands on his knees as he hung in head in frustration.

He thought fleetingly of rushing back out and running to the airport to try and catch Brian before he had a chance to leave, but practically speaking he knew that would be a long shot. He had no idea which airline Brian would be using or when it would be taking off. He knew there were several flights that flew from New York City to Pittsburgh; the odds that he could find the right one before Brian left were miniscule, and that was if he could even get there in the midst of the bustling New York City traffic. He thought about going there regardless, to take the next flight out himself, but he could only imagine how obscenely expensive THAT would be and there was no way he could ever afford it. It had taken every last cent he had to be able to pay for the flight he was due to take on Saturday afternoon. No, unless his partner decided to answer his calls or perhaps his emails, he would just have to wait until he got home on Christmas Eve to try and make amends.

The weight of his unfortunate decision never felt any heavier than it did at that moment as he lay down on the mussed-up bed where his partner had lain the night before, the tears of regret that trickled from his eyes mixing in with the unmistakable scent of Brian's cologne as he clutched the pillow to his face and curled up in a fetal position, eventually drifting off into a restless, guilt-ridden sleep.

* * *

><p><em>Two Hours Later…<em>

"Yes?"

The voice on the other end was weary and resigned. "It's me; I'm back."

Maarten frowned in surprise as he exchanged a look with Jacob who was relaxing on the couch drinking a glass of wine. "Justin? You're down in the lobby?"

"Yeah…Can I come up?"

"Uh…sure," he said as he looked back at his partner, both wondering what was going on. "I'm releasing the elevator now. We'll see you shortly."

"Thanks."

As he flipped the intercom button off, Maarten walked over and sat down next to his partner. "Well, this is probably not a good sign," he murmured. Apparently Justin hadn't been able to resolve his issues with his lover.

"No, Schatje, it isn't," he agreed softly as he wrapped his arm around his tender-hearted partner's shoulder and pulled him toward his body. He knew Maarten was still feeling bad about indirectly being the cause of Justin and Brian's problems, even though it was unwarranted in his opinion. "Why do you think he's come back?"

Maarten shook his head. "Not sure; maybe he just wants somebody to talk to."

Jacob smiled at his partner's thoughtfulness; he really wanted to spend some time alone tonight with Maarten, but under the circumstances he couldn't very well let Justin wallow in his sorrow alone. If their new friend needed help, they would be there to provide it for him.

A knock sounded on the door a couple minutes later as Maarten rose to his feet to walk over and open it, finding Justin standing there with drooping shoulders and a splotchy-looking face; it was obvious he had been crying at some point, but Maarten wisely chose not to mention that he noticed. He had a feeling that would not help Justin feel any better or any less guilt-stricken as he opened the door to allow him to enter.

Jacob stood up from his place on the couch as the two other men approached him. "I take it things did not go well?" he inquired softly.

Justin sighed; a heavy-laden, mournful sound as he shook his head. "I hurried back to the hotel, but Brian had already left."

"I'm sorry," Maarten murmured sympathetically as Justin nodded. He waited silently for a moment to allow Justin to explain why he had returned but there was no immediate reply. Finally, he glanced over at Jacob who shrugged as he pressed, "Is there anything we can do? I still feel partly responsible for your trouble."

Justin shook his head. "No," he answered firmly. "You thought Tabitha had already told me about what sort of painting you wanted me to do, and I had the chance to decline. It's not your fault, Maarten." He finally got to the reason why he was there. "Listen…I decided that if I can't go home until Saturday I might as well go ahead and finish your painting for you. In fact, I think I can finish it up tonight – I mainly just need to fill in the background now." He knew the other two men wanted some privacy after Jacob had been gone for a couple of days, but he felt the need to resolve this one issue and get it out of the way once and for all. If he could finish it tonight, he could get Lewis to frame it tomorrow and be done with it. That would give him the money he needed to move back home for good; that is, if Brian still wanted him to. "I won't intrude with your privacy," he hastened to add. "I just need some time to paint the skyline. Would that be okay?"

"Of course," Jacob responded, knowing Maarten would want his approval before giving Justin the go-ahead. "We can go relax in the atrium for a while so you have enough space to work. That is, if you're sure you don't need Maarten to pose any more?" He knew there was nothing going on between Justin and his partner now, and he trusted Maarten implicitly, but he still couldn't help feeling just a little awkward about his lover parading around nude in front of another man. To his relief, Justin shook his head firmly.

"No, I have all I need now," he told them. "Thank you for your understanding; I'll just go get my supplies, then, and get started."

The two men watched as Justin turned and slowly shuffled down the hallway. A few minutes later, Justin returned with all his painting supplies and the almost-finished canvas, refusing a drink or anything to eat so he could concentrate instead of finishing his work.

* * *

><p>For the next few hours, Justin thankfully found a certain catharsis in focusing on his work, the beauty of the New York skyline serving to divert his mind at least temporarily from the unpleasant events of earlier. It also served to change his demeanor dramatically from one of sadness, guilt and dismay to steely resolve. By the time he had finished up close to midnight, he had made up his mind that he was going back to Britin on Saturday come hell or high water and wasn't leaving until he had made Brian forgive him for what he had done. Not that he felt it would be that cut and dried; far from it. But he knew despite what he had done that Brian loved him just as deeply as he did, and they would work through this just like they had worked through everything else. Besides, the more he thought about it, the more he decided that both of them shared some of the blame for what had happened. Yes, he should have told Brian everything, but his partner should have had enough faith in him that he wouldn't cheat on him again. He had definitely learned his lesson the first time, and he had assumed Brian had realized that. Apparently, though, there was still some residual doubt left, even after all this time; it would be up to him to correct that.<p>

He let out a breath he had been holding as he held his paintbrush up and studied his work, leaning in to brush a couple more strokes over a small area that he felt needed a little touch-up. Stepping back a few feet, he surveyed the portrait with a critical eye and finally nodded in satisfaction. He had been correct about the backdrop; the darker color definitely helped to define the muscular curvature of Maarten's back, much more than the lighter, sun-washed daylight would have done. He was happy that despite everything that had occurred earlier, he had been able to focus on what he needed to get done and had accomplished his goal at last.

He turned slightly to his right as he heard a soft noise nearby, thankful that he had the painting at such an angle that the two men still couldn't see it.

"Justin…"

"I know, I know," the blond sighed in acknowledgment as Maarten and Jacob came walking back into the living room. Justin had advised them earlier when they had come into the adjoining kitchen to return their empty wine glasses that he was almost finished, and both men couldn't wait now to see the finished result.

Now as he studied the portrait one last time, he felt confident it was as good as he was going to get it; the only thing left was to sign it and get it framed tomorrow. "Just a minute," he advised them as he placed the thicker brush down into the water jar and picked up a finer one; bending over to the lower-right hand corner, he carefully signed it with "J Taylor" before placing the other brush in the water to join the other one. He wiped off some stray paint smears on his hands with his work shirt before turning to peer over at the two men standing a few feet away. "I guess it wouldn't hurt for you to see it now if you want, although it will look even better once I have it framed." He grinned at Maarten, whose eyes had lit up at the thought that finally he could see what he had been posing for all this time. "I don't think you want to wait, though."

"Hell, no!" Maarten quipped. "My sore back and aching muscles deserve a sneak peek!"

Justin laughed softly for the first time that night, feeling just a little less pessimistic now that he knew for sure that he would, indeed, get the painting completely finished and framed by tomorrow; he knew that Lewis was true to his word and wouldn't let him down. The thought that he had let Brian down filtered fleetingly through his mind before he returned to the present; he would have plenty of time to eat crow once he returned home on Saturday. "Well, come on over and take a look, then," he told them as the two approached eagerly to get their first glimpse of the portrait. "I hope it's what you both wanted," Justin told them a little anxiously. It wasn't that he wasn't confident in his abilities, but it was rare that he was actually there with the client immediately after a commissioned work was unveiled and he found himself feeling just a little apprehensive about it.

His worries were for naught, however, as both men's faces lit up with pleasure and he found himself relaxing in relief. "Oh, my God!" Jacob declared as a big smile appeared on his face. "This is incredible, Justin! Absolutely wonderful," he murmured in appreciation as his gaze swept over the entire work, noticing how meticulous Justin had been about every detail of his partner's body as well as the surrounding background. "This is great," he told Justin with a smile. "Maarten knows me too well," he stated as his partner grinned. "He knew I wouldn't be happy with an ordinary, traditional type of portrait; this is phenomenal."

Maarten nodded as he studied the still-drying work appreciatively. "You were right about the background, my friend," he said in awe. "It really helps to draw the eye toward my body." He looked up finally at Justin with a big smile. "I did choose the right artist for my painting," he told him firmly. "This is perfect and exactly what I had in mind; no, it's better than I could have ever imagined and worth having to wait for, even if you DID drive me crazy in the meantime."

Justin smiled; not a beaming smile like he would typically bestow upon someone when they were lavishing praise upon his accomplishments, but one that was a shadow of its typical self; now that he was finished with his commissioned piece, his thoughts were straying back to his partner and what he would have to do to make amends. He knew Brian tended to revert into a sort of emotional shell when he was hurt, and it was going to be up to him to break him out of it. He HAD to succeed. He had no choice; he WOULD do it, no matter what. They had come much too far to go backward and his heart was invested too firmly in his partner for there to be any other outcome; he only wanted to move forward now. "Thank you, Maarten," he told his friend softly. "I'm glad that you like it."

He began to quietly turn around and gather up his things as the two men eyed the painting appreciatively for a few moments longer until Maarten advised, "Don't go just yet, Justin. Stay for some dinner. I'm sure there're some leftovers in the refrigerator, and I imagine you haven't had a thing to eat all evening."

That was true enough; in all the events that had transpired earlier, Justin for once had not felt like eating; in fact, his stomach was still churning over his and Brian's argument. He shook his head as he picked up the water jar, preparing to carry it back to the laundry room so he could rinse out his brushes. "No…As hard as it is to believe, I'm not hungry right now," he said with a slight smile, remembering that he had told Maarten earlier during one of their conversations about how Brian was always kidding him about his unstoppable appetite. "Thanks, though," he added as he turned to leave the room. "I'm going to wait a little while until the painting's completely dry. I would be grateful if you could call Alfred to come and pick me up, though; that way I can take the painting with me to have it framed tomorrow. I should be able to return it to you sometime later in the day and then it will be completely done."

Jacob smiled at him and nodded. "Of course – I'll text him right now." Justin nodded his gratitude as he turned and walked out of the room toward the laundry.

Maarten shook his head as he watched Justin depart. "Shit, what a mess," he murmured in sympathy. "I hope he's able to work everything out with his partner."

Jacob slid his arm around his partner's waist and pulled him close as he, too, watched Justin trudge down the hallway with his jar of brushes. "If anyone can, I suspect that Justin can," he told him. "No one gets upset enough to punch someone out unless they really care about him deeply. He loves him all right. He'll forgive him."

"I hope so," Martin responded before a sudden thought occurred to him. "You didn't punch Justin out," Maarten countered teasingly.

Jacob smiled back at him. "That doesn't me I wasn't about ready to if you hadn't come up with a good reason to stop me," he disclosed. "I'm glad I didn't now, though; something tells me Justin's already been beaten up enough – at least emotionally." He leaned down to give Maarten a quick kiss before he replied, "I'd better give Alfred a heads-up we're going to need his services shortly."

Maarten nodded as he turned around to begin picking up some of Justin's supplies for his return back to his apartment, silently hoping that Justin would be able to make amends soon with his stubborn partner.

* * *

><p><em>AN: I actually have most of the next chapter written, so I hope to post that one either tonight or tomorrow. Please consider reviewing if you are enjoying this story - it means a lot to me! Thank you for reading as always.:) And thank you to Boriqua522 for checking this over for me.:)  
><em>


	7. Reunion at Britin

_Gus and the Munchers arrive at Britin with Tricky in tow; Justin is greeted with an icy reception of his own._

* * *

><p><em>Late Morning Saturday, Christmas Eve – Britin<em>

Brian sloshed the glass of Beam around in his hand as he sat in his favorite overstuffed chair in the study; a robust fire burned nearby in the massive brick fireplace. The high for the day was only supposed to reach the mid-20s, and the sky outside the tall, expansive windows of the room was cloudy, gray, and angry looking. He thought that it matched his demeanor perfectly.

He had been trying hard to put on a neutral game face before his son and the two Munchers arrived, but he was having a difficult time of it. It wasn't because he wasn't looking forward to seeing them – at least Gus and Lindsay; Mel, he mainly tolerated. He supposed he could even endure his son's dog Tricky if he had to because his son loved the animal so much, although his anticipation over his son's visit was tempered somewhat by the thought of having to entertain the over-rambunctious beast. He always loved to see his child, anytime, anywhere, and it was always especially nice when he was back home by his side where they could do father and son things together – fishing, going to the zoo or ballgames, taking walks in the backwoods of the grounds, or going to the circus. He looked forward to every moment with his son like a jewel in a sea of treasures, actually; it didn't matter what they did as long as they were together.

The problem was, though, to make everything complete there was one piece of the puzzle missing and despite his extreme aggravation with that particular 'piece,' it felt like a large part of his heart was missing. He reached nearby to pick up his cellphone, noticing five new messages. He didn't bother to open up his inbox to view them, however; he knew already who they were from – the same person who had tried to contact him numerous times since he had left New York. Justin. He sighed. _Damn little shit_.

When it was all said and done, it wasn't the fact that Justin had taken on a commission that involved painting another man in the nude – a very attractive man, he might add. It wasn't even the fact that he was doing it in the man's penthouse apartment alone with just the two of them, although he would have preferred his studio – with a lot of other people around. No, it all came down to the fact that Justin had chosen not to be completely honest with him, and that hurt. A _lot_. He had thought they had long passed the point where he had to worry about whether Justin could be trusted. He supposed when it came to carrying on some clandestine relationship with another man, he DID trust that Justin loved him and that especially after the Ethan debacle he would never stray again. They had been monogamous for some time now and he knew Justin would never jeopardize his safety or his health, especially after the cancer scare. No, once he realized what was really happening at the penthouse, he believed that Justin had remained faithful to him. And he loved his partner deeply - his feelings grew deeper and deeper for Justin every day, every month, every year. So why had it been so hard for him to be upfront about what he was doing? Why had he felt it necessary to keep it a secret from him?

Did he really think if he told him he would have promptly marched up to New York and punched the guy out in a jealous rage because he had had the gall to pick his partner of all people to paint him for a nude portrait? Funny; that was exactly what had happened because he _hadn_'_t_ told him; if he had been honest from the start, no, he wouldn't have liked it, but he could have accepted it. In a way, it did bother him to realize that now he was no longer the only man that Justin had painted nude. Up until now, knowing that had made him feel special – something just between the two of them. Now it wasn't. But if Justin had told him what he was doing, had had faith in him, he could have lived with it – grudgingly. He sighed as he swirled the liquid around in the glass before raising it to his lips and drinking the remainder down in one gulp, feeling it burn his throat. He placed the glass on the coffee table with a disgusted clunk.

He gazed thoughtfully for several moments into the hypnotizing flickers of the flames a few feet away before he heard the sound of car doors closing outside and a familiar little boy's cries of delight. In spite of his predicament, he had to smile at the sound of his son's voice as he rose from his chair and strode out into the hallway to greet his guests. Walking the short distance over to the front door, he opened it just in time for a 130-pound mass of blond fur wearing red felt antlers to come rushing up to him; Tricky's entire body rocked from side to side as he wagged his tail furiously at the sight of his idol and circled around Brian, excited yelps erupting from deep in his throat.

"Shit!" Brian cried out as he held onto the door's edge to keep from being knocked down. "Gus, call off your bodyguard!" he commanded as Tricky began to lick him thoroughly on the hand in delight.

"Tricky!" Be good!" Gus admonished him as he stuck his index finger out to scold him. To Brian's surprise, Gus pulled on Tricky's jingle-belled collar and managed to pull him back just far enough to pry him apart from his hand until Lindsay had the opportunity to provide him with backup.

"I've got him, Sweetheart," she told her son as she hooked her hand around his collar and looked apologetically over at Brian. "He's just _really _glad to see you," she explained as Mel came walking up with a couple of their suitcases in hand. Setting them down temporarily, she closed the door behind them, thankfully blocking out the frigid cold from the interior of the house.

"I wish I could say the feeling was mutual," Brian muttered as he wiped his slobbery hand off on his jeans. His face transformed back into a look of tenderness, however, as he looked over at his son who was wearing the new coat that Brian had sent him as an early Christmas present. "How's my Sonny Boy?" he asked as Gus flew into his arms. He swept him up into a firm hug, holding him tightly against his chest, feeling the need at that moment for the comfort that only his little boy could provide him.

"Daddy, I can't breathe," Gus protested as Brian reluctantly released him slightly to peer into his wide, expressive eyes. "Better," he announced solemnly as he nodded his head and gazed lovingly into his father's face, reaching one small hand out to curve it around his father's cheek.

Brian smiled at him fondly, feeling the unexpected sting of tears behind his eyes. "How about giving your father a kiss, Buddy?" he asked softly as Gus obligingly wrapped his hands around his father's neck and placed a wet kiss on his cheek.

Lindsay and Mel, who were standing just inside the hallway, exchanged a puzzled look at Brian's odd, almost wistful tone of voice, so atypical of him even in the presence of his son. They watched as Brian nuzzled his son's nose Eskimo-style before he gently placed him back down on the ground to acknowledge the two women.

"How are you, Brian?" Lindsay asked curiously, sensing something was different in her friend's demeanor, but not quite able to decipher what it was. "I see you and Tricky have already become reacquainted," she teased.

"How delightful," he replied dryly as he peered over at his antler-bedecked, canine 'fan club president.' "I'm so thrilled Cujo could come with you," he remarked as he eyed Tricky warily, wondering how long Lindsay would be able to hold the furry beast back. All he had to do was look the dog in the eyes and he immediately wagged his tail, eager no doubt to bestow some more Christmas cheer on him.

From her place next to Lindsay, Mel looked over at Brian in what appeared to be a decidedly evil smile as she replied, "Oh, it was our _pleasure_, Brian, believe me."

"I'm sure it was," Brian remarked, wanting badly to issue a sharp retort but holding back for the sake of his son. He looked down at Tricky who was pulling against his captivity. "You didn't bring any type of restraint for him?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, Brian, we didn't have time to pull the invisible fence wire out of the frozen ground at the house so we could use it here," Mel told him, the sarcasm dripping from her voice.

Lindsay sighed; some things never changed, apparently, even at Christmas. "We promise we'll keep him under control; well, as much as we can, anyway. When he's around _you _it seems like he's a completely different dog. He's never this uncontrollable at the house; you just must bring out the beast in him like all the other males." She smiled over at her friend, who responded with a roll of the eyes and a ghost of a smile himself, but she sensed it was more of an act than anything else. "Brian?" she said softly, that one word so short but meaning so much more.

He shook his head imperceptibly as he turned instead to his son; this time, the smile he bestowed on him was more genuine. "I've got some hot chocolate and marshmallows in the kitchen; want to help me make some?"

"Yeah!" Gus cried out as Brian reached down to take his son's coat off and hang it up in the hallway closet.

"You can use whatever guest room you want upstairs," Brian told the two women as he stared down again at Tricky. He sighed; he figured there was no way the dog would allow himself to be dragged willingly up the staircase with the two of them, not with both his 'idol' AND his master heading in the opposite direction. "I guess you can let Cujo loose now," he said as a thought occurred to him. "Isn't chocolate lethal for dogs?" he asked innocently, knowing his son would have no idea what the word meant.

"Brian!" Lindsay scolded him in shock. "Don't you dare give that dog chocolate!"

Brian shrugged. "Just asking," he said innocently as he rolled his lips under. He took his son's hand as Lindsay let Tricky's collar go; freed from his confinement, the dog immediately scampered gleefully after them, his toenails clicking on the hardwood floor as he followed them toward the kitchen. Mel shook her head in exasperation before she joined Lindsay on the steps leading up the second floor.

"Isn't he cute, Daddy?" Gus asked his father as he peered back at Tricky. "He looks just like Rudolph, except his nose is brown instead of red."

Brian glanced back at the oversized Labrador, wondering just what Gus was feeding his dog. He had to be the largest size of that breed he had ever seen; not that he had ever made it a rule to be up close and personal with one before. But from what he recalled they were supposed to be a medium-sized dog, not the size of fucking camels like this one was.

"Just darling," Brian snarked as they reached the kitchen. He had to admit one thing, though – the dog at least seemed pretty tolerant when it came to playing dress up; it wasn't every dog that would allow a little boy to attach a piece of elastic around their neck and make him parade around like Santa's next reindeer. And the happiness on his son' face was heartwarming; something he could really use right now. He forced his morose thoughts of Justin out of his mind as he said, "Have a seat, Sonny Boy, and I'll get your hot chocolate."

"Lots of marshmallows, Daddy," his son reminded him as Brian smiled, reaching up into the cabinet to fetch the bag of white, sticky cubes and place it down on the countertop. Walking over to the pantry nearby to retrieve a package of hot chocolate mix, he grabbed a plastic mug from the cupboard above the sink and filled it with water before placing it in the microwave. A few minutes later, he joined his son at the table after mixing up the drink, the steaming mug in one hand and the bag of marshmallows in the other.

"Okay, Buddy, you take out as many as you want, but you need to give it a few minutes for it to cool off first," he told him; he watched in amusement as Gus dug his hand into the bag of marshmallows and retrieved much more than could possibly fit into the cup.

"Uh, Gus, there's no way you can put that many in there," he advised him.

"I know, Daddy," Gus replied with a distinct sort of '_duh_' tone of voice. "The extra ones are for Tricky; he loves marshmallows!" He leaned down in his chair to look under the table where Tricky was lying down to call out his name. "Tricky! Here, boy! Time to show Daddy your new trick!"

The dog immediately wagged his tail as he quickly rose to a standing position and rushed over to Gus's side, ecstatic to be getting some much-desired attention.

Gus held the marshmallow up as he told the dog sternly in his best grownup voice, "_Sit_, Tricky!" To Brian's surprise, the dog promptly sat down as instructed as he looked up at Gus impatiently. "Now, _speak_!" he added as Tricky let out a thunderous bark, obviously eager to get his treat. "_Beg_!" he commanded as the dog placed his right paw on Gus's knee and the boy giggled.

"That tickles," he reported with a soft laugh; Brian couldn't help finding his child's delight contagious as he looked over in amusement at his son the ringmaster. "Now watch, Daddy!" he instructed Brian. He reached over the table and picked up one of the large marshmallows. "_Stay_, Tricky!" he told the pooch as Tricky sat perfectly still in front of Gus while his master carefully balanced the object on the tip of the dog's nose. Brian watched intently as Tricky tried to cross his eyes so he could get a better look at his treat, but to his credit he didn't move any other part of his body. It was probably the stillest that he ever seen the dog, in fact.

"Now we're going to school," Gus told the canine solemnly. "When I count to five, you can have your treat, okay?" Tricky watched him closely as Gus began to sound out, "1…2…3…6…8…**5**!"

At the sound of five, Tricky promptly tilted his head upward to loft the marshmallow slightly into the air and caught it deftly in his mouth, swallowing it in one gulp as he licked his lips. He promptly let out a bark, signifying he was ready for the next one.

Gus clapped his hands in glee over Tricky's antics. "Good boy!" he lauded the dog, his face beaming as Tricky made a tight circle around Gus and Brian's chair, making a sort of jig on his paws as he let out a sharp yip and wagged his tail vigorously. "One more," Gus told him sternly, although his gentle, almost playful tone of voice betrayed him. Once again, he placed the marshmallow on Tricky's nose and made the dog wait until he had 'counted' to five, this time prolonging the wait just a bit longer. Tricky, however, wasn't fooled by the change in numbers and kept still until the magic number had been called out before eagerly swallowing his prize.

"He's the smartest dog in the whole wide _world_!" Gus pronounced proudly as he jiggled up and down on his chair in delight. "Isn't he wonderful, Daddy?" he exclaimed.

Brian nodded; he had to admit, the dog did seem well-trained, at least when he wanted to be. Unfortunately, when he was around HIM, his good manners seemed to evaporate. "You're an excellent trainer, Buddy," he finally told his son with a smile as Gus beamed at the praise.

"That's all, Tricky," Gus told his dog as he held both hands out to show him that they were empty. To Brian's slight irritation, the dog apparently decided his hand would be tasty, also, as he promptly trotted over the few feet to his own chair and gave his right hand a large swipe down the top of his palm with the flat of his tongue.

Gus giggled as he watched his father scowl and immediately wipe the wet, cold 'dog kiss' off on the thigh part of his jeans, muttering something under his breath that he strongly suspected was a swear word or two. He was a smart enough boy to know that his father sometimes used that sort of flowery language when he didn't think he was within earshot. "He thinks _you're_ sweet, too, Daddy," he stated, grinning at his father's look of disgust.

"I'm so touched," Brian responded as he peered down at his greatest fan; he knew all it would take was one more encouraging sign from him and the dog would be all but attacking him like some love-struck trick at Babylon. The dog seemed to excel at aggravating him, but it was difficult to remain angry when he was staring at a goofy, 130-pound replication of Santa's favorite reindeer. He sighed, knowing he was destined to put up with Cujo for the remainder of the holidays.

Gus took a sip of his hot chocolate, the now-melted marshmallow crème sticking to his lips like a white moustache. Brian's heart lurched as Gus placed his mug down and asked suddenly out of the blue, "Where's Jus'n? I want to show him what Tricky can do, too. Is he out back painting? I want to see him."

Brian looked over into his son's large, expressive eyes, his guileless face so full of innocence and trust. What he wouldn't give for everything to be as simple as Gus thought it was. "No, he's not here, Buddy. I'm not sure if he will make it back here for Christmas," he told his son softly. He knew Justin had made a promise to return home for Gus's sake and in any other situation his partner would never back down on a guarantee that he had given his son. Justin thought the world of his son, and would normally never disappoint him. But this was not a typical situation. He knew Justin had been trying to reach him for days now through both phone and email messages, but he had stubbornly deleted each one he got, not even bothering to read them or listen to them. At this point, then, he had no idea whether Justin would show up or not. As he looked over at the beginning signs of a pout, however, he couldn't help feeling sympathy stirring at the unhappy sight.

"Why not, Daddy?" Gus asked, his face clouding over in disappointment. "He _promised _to come."

Brian scooted over in his chair until he could put his arm around his son's shoulder. "I know," he told him gently. "But sometimes grown-up things happen that get in the way. I'm sure he'd be here if he could; you know that."

Gus's mug of hot chocolate was promptly forgotten as he cried out, "NO, Daddy! Jus'n _promised_! If he promises me something, he always does it! He WILL be here!"

Brian smiled gently, struggling to somehow explain something that he didn't exactly understand himself; he still couldn't believe that his partner hadn't trusted enough in their love to tell him the truth, and he couldn't quite fathom how it had quickly blown up into something so huge. "Maybe you're right," he told the boy soothingly, unable to dash his hopes entirely. "We'll just have to see."

From her place nearby in the doorway, Lindsay frowned at that ambiguous statement. Justin wouldn't promise her son that he would be here, and then miss this opportunity to come home to see the boy that he adored like his own child. What had happened to possibly prevent it, then?

She walked softly into the kitchen, amused by the sight of Gus's mouth ringed with a white coat of sticky, gooey marshmallow. "Having fun, Honey?" Lindsay asked him with a smile.

Gus bobbed his head in affirmation, his sadness over Justin not being there temporarily forgotten as he announced proudly, "I showed Daddy how Tricky goes to school!"

Lindsay laughed. "I figured," she said. Gus had shown her and Mel that same trick several times now in the past couple of weeks, ever since he had taken it upon himself to teach him how to wait for his 'treat.' It seemed that Tricky's love of marshmallows had been just the ticket to get him to learn what the meaning of 'five' was. "That dog has had so many marshmallows in the past couple of weeks I'm surprised he hasn't floated away by now."

Gus peered down at Tricky and then up at the ceiling, seemingly checking to make sure he wasn't being lifted off the ground before, satisfied, he advised his mom with concern, "Jus'n isn't here yet."

"I heard," Lindsay told him softly as she walked over to help herself to some coffee that Brian had already made earlier; she leaned against the counter as she eyed her friend curiously. "Brian, is there a chance he won't make it after all?"

Brian looked away, unable to look his friend directly in the eye. He didn't exactly feel like discussing his and Justin's difficulties at the moment; besides, he didn't want to possibly upset his son. He shrugged. as he muttered, "You'll have to ask HIM that; I'm not his keeper."

Now Lindsay _definitely _knew something was wrong; the last time she had spoken to Brian a few days ago, the anticipation in his voice over Justin's impending visit was palpable, and when they had come up to Canada for Thanksgiving they could hardly keep their hands off each other. Now he was acting like he didn't care one way or the other. "Brian?" she pressed quietly.

Brian abruptly scooted back from his chair; Tricky, who had resumed his seated position underneath the table, perked his ears up as he watched Brian's movements intently.

"Where's your worse half?" he asked Lindsay curtly.

Lindsay chose to bypass the elephant in the room temporarily as she replied, "She's lying down; she was pretty tired after doing most of the driving today. Brian…"

"I'll go let Tricky outside," he said rather brusquely, not wanting to discuss the subject any further. "I fenced in part of the backyard so he can go out without his leash," he explained to his friend. He patted his leg. "Get moving, Cujo, time to do your business."

Before Lindsay could say anything else, Brian stooped to look under the table at Tricky. "Come on, devil spawn, we're going out." Tricky rose from his position at the sound of the word "out" and trotted over to Brian, jumping up and down lightly on his feet in excitement as his bushy tail wagged furiously.

Lindsay watched in puzzlement as Brian turned to quickly walk over to the double French doors leading out to the backyard, grabbing his leather coat draped over the back of a nearby counter stool. A few seconds later, both he and the dog were gone, Tricky scampering excitedly around the expansive, fenced-in area. She stared thoughtfully after her friend for a moment before she walked over to sit down next to her son, silently resolving to find out what exactly was going on between Brian and Justin at her first opportunity.

* * *

><p>Outside in the yard, Tricky loped immediately over to a medium-sized stick and, placing in his mouth, trotted over to Brian and dropped it at his feet.<p>

Brian rolled his eyes. "Not my kind of woody," he remarked dryly. "Go find a tree and pee on it." But Tricky just let out an impatient sort of bark in response, picking the stick back up and then dropping it back down again right in front of Brian as if he were asking him, _are you blind or just dense? _

Brian shook his head in disgust as the dog peered intently up at him with dark, luminous eyes. "You're not easily deterred, are you?" he murmured. _Kind of like someone ELSE I know, _he couldn't help thinking as another blond came to mind. Reaching inside his jacket pockets to retrieve his leather gloves, he pulled them on as he leaned down to pick up the stick. Tricky, sensing a victory, ran a few steps away before turning back around to look at Brian expectantly.

"Brother," Brian muttered as he reared his arm back and let go of the stick as it sailed several yards away. Tricky rushed after it eagerly, scooping it up deftly in his mouth and hurrying back to Brian's side, once more dropping the stick down in front of him.

"I was afraid of that," Brian replied as he looked down at the dog. He sighed as he picked up the stick and threw it once more, watching as Tricky joyously went after it. He felt suspiciously like he was acting in a Groundhog movie as he and Tricky repeated the same process, over and over again. The dog didn't seem to know either the meaning of moderation or exhaustion as he kept fetching and retrieving, fetching and retrieving, until Brian himself was too tired to go on.

"No more," he finally advised his ever-constant companion as he held his palms outward in a signal of defeat. "What is it about blonds not being able to take no for an answer?" He jammed his hands into his pocket and turned around to look out toward the large grove of pine trees surrounding the ground's large lake, now frozen over from the frigid temperatures. He recalled when he and Justin were talking about taking Gus out on the lake to go ice skating. He had been looking forward to spending time with his partner and his son – simple times when he, Justin, and Gus could be together as a little family. He had been hoping for snow during the holiday so he and Justin could take Gus sled riding and build a snowman together, have snowball fights and ride their horses around the ground. Do _everything_ together. It wouldn't have mattered what it was. What was important was that they would be reunited and could put aside any worries and stress and just enjoy themselves.

"Right," he muttered as he peered down at his companion and the stark reality of his predicament confronted him. Tricky gazed up at him with his big, brown eyes, cocking his head to the side as if he were understanding every word he said. "That was shot to hell, wasn't it, Cujo?" he asked softly as he huddled against the stiff, cold wind, abruptly feeling the tentative, first flakes of a snowstorm beginning to fall. He glanced toward Justin's studio located several yards away; the large, two-room wooden structure had originally been a storage building when he had first purchased the property, but last year he had arranged to have an architect and construction crew come in to completely gut and remodel the place as a surprise birthday present for Justin. The look of absolute delight on his partner's face when he had first seen it had been worth every dollar he had spent to have it done. Now as he looked over at the darkened, deserted-looking studio, it only reminded him of how he and Justin had parted the other day. He sighed as he felt something gently nudging his upper leg.

"No offense, but you're not the blond I had in mind to spend time with," he replied softly as the dog stared up at him silently, the snow now beginning to fall a little thicker now. For someone who had been so vocal and rowdy around him earlier, it was almost as if the dog knew he was sad about something. For some reason, he felt the unexpected urge to reach down and scratch the dog's silky ear with one leather-gloved hand before he asked, "Ready to go in?" He turned to head back toward the house as the dog followed on his heels. He smirked as Tricky stopped briefly, however, to hike his leg against their large maple tree. "NOW you decide to take a piss," he said as he shook his head. "Move it, Cujo, my balls are about ready to freeze off Or BALL rather."

He opened one of the French doors for the dog to enter in front of him as he savored the warmth inside. Tricky trotted along in front of him as if he owned the place now, his tail swishing happily back and forth like a flag on a pole as he hurried out of the kitchen and into the hall, presumably in search of Gus who had since left the kitchen. He could hear several animated voices filtering into the room from the front of the house as he followed the dog out into the hallway.

"Daddy! Come _quick_!" Was the urgent call.

Brian rushed out of the kitchen, thinking something was wrong with Gus. Tricky quickly outdistanced him, trotting around the corner toward the front of the house and promptly disappearing out of sight. "Gus?" he called out anxiously. He continued toward the sound of the voices, hearing the closing of the front door and then Tricky yelping excitedly about something.

He approached the entrance to the house, noticing Mel and Lindsay standing with their backs to him; Gus was nowhere to be seen. Suddenly the two women parted and Brian immediately knew the reason why his son had sounded so excited. "Daddy! Look who's here!" Gus shouted triumphantly as his son appeared in the void along with Tricky, pulling on their visitor's hand. "It's _Jus'n_!"

Brian's heart lurched at the vision of his partner standing there a few feet away; he was wearing his familiar, navy-blue pea coat and had a bulky, blue and white scarf wrapped around his neck. His blond hair had fine flakes of quickly-dissolving snow in its locks, his cheeks were rosy from having been out in the cold and his lips were puffy-looking. As Justin slowly lifted his blue eyes to lock onto Brian's, though, Brian couldn't help thinking how fucking beautiful he was. That didn't mean he still wasn't mad as hell at him, though. "Well, _this _is a surprise," he said dryly. "I didn't think you'd be able to tear yourself away from your busy painting schedule to grace us with your presence. Did you run out of flesh-tone acrylic?"

To his credit, Justin met his gaze evenly; inside, however, his heart was pounding as he finally came face-to-face once more with his stubborn, jealous, proud lover. Part of him wanted desperately to talk to Brian in private to pound some sense into him, while the other part wanted to tell him what an ass he was being for even thinking he would ever cheat on him again. Had the past several years of fidelity meant _nothing _to him? But he wouldn't do that in front of Gus.

"I promised Gus that I would be here," Justin told him stiffly as he reached down to idly rub the top of Tricky's head. "I wouldn't think of being anywhere else," he added softly as he pulled Gus closer to his side and the child beamed up at him in delight.

Brian scowled at the tender sight. _Damn twat; playing the 'Gus' card to get my sympathy…_

Lindsay and Mel exchanged a pointed look; both knew something weird was going on. They could sense the undercurrent of tension between the two men, but they also knew that now was probably not the best time to bring it up – not when Santa was about to visit a little boy. "Uh, Justin?" Lindsay asked instead. "Let me hang up your coat for you and you can go warm up by the fire."

Justin shook his head. "Thanks, but I've got a few things out in the car I need to bring in." He looked over at Brian, taking a deep breath before he added hopefully, "I could use some help." Perhaps he could speak to Brian privately that way, at least for a few moments; it would be a start.

Brian pursed his lips tightly together for a moment before he replied curtly, "Sorry, Sunshine, but I just did my good deed with Cujo out back." To emphasize his point, he walked over and hung up his jacket in the hall closet. "I'm not interested in going back out into the Arctic tundra again." He glanced down at his son. "Hey, Sonny Boy! Why don't we go in the kitchen and make up a plate of cookies and milk for when Santa comes?"

Gus immediately let go of Justin's hand and rushed over to his father excitedly. "Yay!" he cried out. "Can we, Daddy? Then Santa will be sure to leave me LOTS of presents!"

Brian smiled as he looked at Gus, stealing a sideways glance over at Justin who was standing silently nearby, his arms wrapped around his waist. "Sure, Buddy," Brian told him as he took Gus's hand and began to walk away. "Mel, you're big and strong," he called out over his shoulder. "I'm sure you can take care of it."

Mel huffed out an irritated breath as Brian promptly walked away with their son, leaving Justin standing there like a vacuum-cleaner salesman being summarily dismissed. They noticed the embarrassment on Justin's face as he met their gaze and sighed.

"Okay, Justin," Lindsay said softly. "You want to tell us what that was all about?"

He shook his head. "It's a long story."

Mel walked over and put her hand on his shoulder comfortingly. "Well, we're here through New Year's, so we have plenty of time. What did the asshole do _now_?"

Even with his disgust over Brian's attitude, Justin still felt the odd need to defend his partner. "It was mostly my fault. If I had been totally straight with him, none of this would have happened."

"What?" Lindsay asked curiously, stealing a glance down the hall to make sure father and son were now out of earshot.

Justin exhaled a weary breath. "Where do I start?"

Lindsay looked her friend sympathetically as he took his arm and began to lead him toward the nearby study, the fire's flames beckoning invitingly. "At the beginning."

* * *

><p><em>Thanks to Boriqua522 for checking this over for me.:)<em>


	8. Gone In A Flash

_Brian continues to give Justin the cold shoulder treatment. An unexpected visit from Gus leaves both Justin and Brian's son in jeopardy._

_Major cliffhanger alert! (Ducking Under My Desk Now...)_

* * *

><p>Fifteen minutes later, Justin had brought in a couple boxes of gifts from his rental car with Mel's help and stashed them in the hall closet. He wasn't sure if the gifts would be opened that evening or tomorrow or EVER if Brian had anything to say about it. Obviously a few days apart hadn't softened his bitterness over him not being completely honest about Maarten's portrait.<p>

Now he sat warming up in front of the blazing fire, hands on his knees as he gazed into the hypnotic flames and pondered how to get out of the mess he had created. Yes, he regretted not being totally upfront with his partner, but he had tried for days now to make amends and Brian was stubbornly refusing to discuss it. He sighed; what a particularly trying time to deal with this situation! He didn't want to spoil Gus's holiday especially; the little guy deserved to have the carefree, innocent Christmas that every little boy deserved. He certainly wasn't going to spoil it for him or heap his own melancholy mood on him at what should normally be the most joyous time of the year. He had been looking forward so eagerly to being with Brian, Gus and their friends during Christmas; but his own well-intentioned but foolish actions, as well as Brian's steadfast pigheadedness, was threatening to make for a very lonely time. It certainly wasn't the way he had envisioned it.

"Justin?"

He raised his head as Lindsay came back in with Mel, carrying a mug of hot chocolate that she handed to him. He nodded gratefully to her as he took a sip, cupping the mug around his hands to relish the warmth. The wind outside was whipping up something fierce, blowing the quickly-accumulating snow around almost horizontally; soon the grounds would be covered in a blanket of white. Normally he would have been excited like a little kid over the fact that they were going to have a white Christmas, but now it merely seemed to match his bleak state of mind.

The two women sat down on the couch next to him as he continued to stare into the flames, finding the reliable flickering somehow comforting; at that moment he needed anything that would calm the roiling thoughts swirling through his mind. He could hear Brian and Gus's voices filtering in from the kitchen and an occasional banging of pots and pans as they prepared the ready-to-make cookies from some refrigerated sugar cookie dough. Gus's excited, happy tone contrasted markedly with his own mood as he shook his head slightly at the irony.

"Mel and I hate to see you so unhappy," Lindsay told him softly. "You want to talk about it?"

He turned his gaze at last to look at his friends. He assumed they meant well and really DID want to help, but he had decided to remain close-lipped about what had happened. He had _already _gotten into trouble over not being totally upfront with Brian; somehow he didn't think confiding in their friends behind his back would go over too well with him, either. He shook his head. "No," he said firmly. "This is something Brian and I need to work out for ourselves."

Mel snorted, unconvinced. "You're too easy on him."

The emotional drama of the past week threatened to boil over to the surface as Justin bit back the retort he really wanted to say; as much as he was irritated by his partner's stubbornness, Mel had no idea what she was talking about and her constant harping on the man that he loved was starting to grate on his nerves. For Gus's sake, however, he chose to rise above it as he calmly told her instead, "You don't know all the facts, Mel. Just let Brian and I handle it, okay?" He stood up before she had a chance to respond and placed the mug down on the tray lying nearby. "Now if you'll excuse me..."

The two women watched as Justin turned around and strode out of the room, apparently in a trek back toward the kitchen.

"I hope he knows what he's doing," Mel muttered. "I can't believe even now he's sticking up for that asshole."

"Mel, please," Lindsay beseeched as she pinched her nose with her fingers. "Let's not spoil everything for Gus, okay?"

"Fine," she growled. "But don't be surprised if it all blows up in Justin's face."

* * *

><p>Justin wandered down the hallway toward the kitchen, noticing Tricky lying under the table curled up in a furry ball; apparently he had finally gotten his fill of being around his idol again and was content to relax as father and son attempted to make Santa's cookies. The dog raised his head to look at him as he arrived but didn't move from his position.<p>

Despite his current situation, Justin had to smile at the rather domestic-looking picture before his eyes; Gus was standing on a small, light-blue painted step stool so he could reach the counter where Brian was standing next to him, cutting out slices of pre-formed cookie dough from a package. Gus had one of Justin's aprons wrapped twice around his slight body and had sticky cookie dough residue all over his hands as he took a slice at a time from his father and, using his palms, mashed the cookie flat against a sheet of waxed paper before cutting it into an appropriate seasonal shape using one of several silicone cookie cutters. The unbaked cookies were then placed on a cool baking sheet before he picked up a tube of icing and squirted some rather haphazardly onto the baked cookies that had already come out of the oven earlier.

Gus must have caught a glimpse of him in the corner of his eye, because at that moment he twisted around and flashed him a beaming, proud smile. "Look, Jus'n!" he shouted. "I'm painting just like YOU!"

Justin smiled back at him in response to the boy's elation, but his gaze was reserved for the man standing next to him who turned to look at him with a stony type of stare. His initial smile over Gus's enthusiasm faded slightly as he nodded. "I'm sure Santa will love them, Buddy," he told him softly.

"Want to help?" Gus asked as he held out one of the painted shapes toward him. "You can put the sprinkles on them."

Justin hesitated for a moment before nodding; to hell with Brian and his stubbornness, he decided. He wasn't going to let that spoil Gus's – or HIS – Christmas. Justin walked over to stand on the opposite side of Gus as he accepted the cookie and began to sprinkle some red and green glitter onto the icing-laden surface before placing the finished product on cooling rack nearby.

"Daddy told me that Santa's going to need a lot of cookies because of all the trips he has to make tonight," Gus chirped happily, seemingly immune to the tension surrounding him. "Daddy said we could leave him a note to make sure he shares with his reindeer, too."

Justin smiled. "That's very thoughtful of you, Gus," he told him as the boy beamed in response to the compliment. "I'm sure they'll be plenty for all of them to enjoy."

"Daddy?" Gus asked his father softly.

For the first time, Brian spoke. "Yeah, Sonny Boy?" he replied as he handed him another slice of cookie dough.

"I think Santa is getting tired of everybody leaving him milk. I think we should leave him some eggnog instead. Do you have any?"

Brian smiled despite himself. "I think so, Buddy. Here," he said as he handed him the last slice of cookie dough. He turned to walk the few steps over to the refrigerator and opened it. "Yep," he told him. "We've got plenty of it."

"Is it low-fat?" Was the unexpected question.

Brian furrowed his brow as he took the container out and examined it more closely. "Actually, it looks like it is." Personally, he hated the thick, egg-laden shit. But Justin, on the other hand, really liked it so he had bought it a week ago in anticipation of his partner's return to their home. At the time he hadn't bothered to notice whether it was low-fat or not; he had merely picked up the first half-gallon he saw when he had stopped at the local grocery store. Now as he turned to look over at Gus, his eyes caught his partner's and he knew he realized why that container was in there.

Clearing his throat in awkwardness, he focused his gaze on his son as he asked curiously, "Why do you ask?"

"I think Santa's getting too fat," Gus told him matter-of-factly as Justin let out a chuckle at his explanation. Brian couldn't help curling his lips under as he nodded and placed the container out on the nearby counter.

"Good thinking, Gus," he told his son. "We'll make sure to pour him a glass of the low-fat stuff, then, to go with his cookies."

Gus nodded vigorously as he picked up a tube of green icing and used it to decorate one of the tree-shaped cookies next before he handed it to Justin. "This one needs little green candy dots," he advised him helpfully as Justin nodded solemnly and reached over for the green nonpareils to do as Gus asked; once more Brian retreated into his shell of silence. He rolled his eyes in irritation at his marked lack of directly acknowledging even his presence; how long was he going to be subjected to this damn silent treatment?

Finally after a few minutes, the cookie assembly line had every bit of dough flattened, decorated, and sprinkled for Santa and his reindeer.

"Good job, Gus," Brian told his son as he walked over to Justin's side in preparation to retrieve the cookie sheet and place it in the oven. As he reached for the metal baking pan, his hand brushed up against his partner's accidentally and he snatched it back as if he had been burnt.

Justin let out an exasperated huff over his partner's childishness as Brian picked up the pan and walked over to the oven to slide it inside.

"How long, Daddy?" Gus asked him, eager to see the finished product and, of course, sample a couple himself; just to make sure they were palatable for Santa, you understand. Brian had told him not to touch any of the cookies until they were completely cool, and to wait to sample some of the undecorated ones.

"About 10 minutes, Buddy," Brian told him.

"Uh… Gus," Justin said as an idea came to him; he was tired of playing games. "I'm sure your hands are really sticky after making so many cookies. Why don't you go wash off your hands in the bathroom? I bet Tricky would like to go out for a few minutes, too. Your Dad and I will let you know as soon as the cookies are ready, okay?"

"Okay, Jus'n!" Gus responded, eager to do whatever it took so he could taste some of the cookies soon. "Come on, Tricky!" he exclaimed as the pooch rose to his feet and trotted along behind his young master as he strode quickly down the hall toward the first-floor half-bathroom.

Brian opened up his mouth to issue a retort as his son left, but when he couldn't think of a sufficient one to counteract Justin's suggestions, he closed it and began to walk away.

"Come on, Brian!" Justin growled as he grabbed onto Brian's sleeve. "Don't you think you've made your point by now?"

Brian turned around to face him as he pulled his arm away. "I wasn't the one that fucked up; YOU were."

"Yes, _Brian_, you've made that perfectly clear!" Justin retorted, his blue eyes flashing. "How long do you intend to punish me for my mistake?

"What, Sunshine? You don't _like_ this type of punishment?"

Justin put his hands on his hips as he stared defiantly up into the haughty-looking face. "No, I don't! What do you _want_ from me, Brian? I tried calling you and emailing you and you ignored _all_ of them! I know I screwed up and I'm sorry; truly sorry." He held up his hand to prevent Brian from answering as he said, "Yeah, yeah, spare me the _sorry's bullshit _spiel," he added brusquely as Brian opened his mouth to argue, "but THAT statement itself is bullshit!" He sighed heavily to calm down, his anger dissipating as he told his partner more evenly in admission, "I know I should have been upfront with you about the portrait. But I knew you would react exactly like you did; I knew you would fly off the handle and jump to conclusions, even if it WAS completely innocent."

Brian bristled. "That's a completely fucked statement! If it WAS as innocent as you put it, why didn't you just tell me about it in the first place? Why did you feel you had to keep it from me?"

Justin sighed. "Maybe because you would act first and think later; I know the Brian Kinney operating manual intimately, remember?"

Brian brushed his hand through his hair in agitation. "Well, if you know it as well as you _think_ you do, then you should have had enough trust in me to believe I wouldn't just fly off the handle like you say. There've been revisions to the _manual _over the years, or did you forget? Apparently you need to take a refresher course."

Justin shook his head, feeling like they were going around in circles. "Why can't you just accept that I'm sorry and let us move on from there, Brian?" he asked softly. "I've made mistakes before and I will again; so have you."

"Oh, let's not hash that all back up now, Justin," his partner snapped, afraid they were going to revisit the whole Ethan fiasco again. "You need to stick to the issue at hand; don't go trying to blame ME for your screw-up here."

"I'm not _trying_ to!" Justin countered curtly. "I'm trying to apologize! I'm not perfect! What more can I say, Brian?"

"Why did you come home, Justin?"

Justin huffed out a puff of disbelief at the unexpected question. "Why do you _think_? I love you and wanted to spend time with you, Gus and the girls! It's _Christmas_, Brian! Where else would I be?"

"Oh, I don't know. Back in New York scoping out another hot portrait subject?"

"You are fucking unbelievable, Brian!" Justin cried in total frustration as he threw his hands up in temporary defeat. "That's it! I'm done! When you're ready to finally accept my apology, I'll be out in the _studio_!" Angry at himself for the telltale sting of impending tears, Justin brushed the moisture away from his eyes with the palm of his hand as he stomped out of the kitchen and down the hallway on his way upstairs to grab a change of clothes.

He met Gus coming out of the bathroom and had to dodge Tricky as the dog bounded over to him.

The perceptive child immediately spied Justin's flushed, teary-eyed face as he asked, "Where are you going, Jus'n?"

Justin took in a deep breath before letting it out to squat down to the child's eye level. "I'm going out to my studio for a while, Buddy," he told him gently as he took hold of Gus's upper arms; Tricky, somehow sensing something was remiss, nuzzled Justin's hand as he reached one hand over to idly stroke the silky top of the dog's head.

"Why?" was the innocent question.

Justin struggled to answer that properly as he gazed into the large, brown, doe-like eyes blinking back at him. "I…just need some quiet time, I guess," he told the little boy. He forced a smile on his face, but it didn't go all the way to his eyes as he added, "I'll probably be working really late tonight, Gus, so I might wind up sleeping out there; but don't worry, I'll be back bright and early tomorrow morning to watch you open up all your presents from Santa, okay?"

Gus pouted a little. "But I wanted you to read me my bedtime story before I go to bed," he told him. His moms had advised him earlier that Santa wouldn't show up until he was asleep, so for once he was anxious to get to bed early, but not without hearing his favorite story first.

Justin's heart broke a little at the heartfelt plea; he was torn between desperately needing some space at the moment and wanting to do just what Gus asked. He always derived enormous pleasure out of reading stories to Gus; it made him feel even more like a second father to him and filled him with great love for this special child. His mind was too wound up currently, though, to even consider it; and besides, Brian was in such a horrid mood he might actually resent him taking over as a surrogate father on Christmas Eve of all nights.

"I'm sure your Daddy would love to do that for you," he told him soothingly. "I promise I'll read you one tomorrow night, okay?"

Gus finally nodded as Justin breathed an internal sigh of relief; the last thing he wanted was to disappoint the boy he loved as his own son. "Okay, Jus'n," he murmured grudgingly. "You want Tricky to go with you so you won't get lonely?"

Justin smiled, his heart warmed by the boy's thoughtfulness; he knew Tricky typically slept with Gus, so he realized what a generous sacrifice that was. He shook his head at the boy fondly. "No, Buddy, that's okay. That's very thoughtful of you, Little Man, but I'll be fine." He pulled Gus toward him as he slid his arms around the small body for a hug, probably more to comfort him than the child. As he broke apart from him, he bestowed a small kiss on his cheek. He looked over at Tricky who was uncharacteristically calm at the moment, almost as if he knew he was feeling down in the dumps. "You'd better go ahead and let him out," he advised Gus as he stood up. "I'll see you first thing in the morning." He ruffled the boy's soft brown hair affectionately before, with a slight nod of reassurance, he turned to go.

Gus watched Justin walk away, his face reflecting his concern for his 'second papa.' Despite what Justin had told him, he was smart enough to know what he looked like when he was happy and he knew that wasn't Justin's happy face; it was his sad face. He thoughtfully stared after him for several seconds until Justin was out of sight, not noticing his father nearby who had overheard the entire conversation.

Brian sighed as he watched his partner walk away; he knew he was being an ass toward Justin, but he was still angry with him for not trusting enough in their relationship to just be straight with him. He knew, though, that he wouldn't be able to stay mad at Justin forever; it just wasn't possible. Despite his feelings of betrayal over his partner's lack of forthrightness, he still loved the damn man too much to let it fester for too long. That didn't mean, though, that he would let Justin off the hook that easily in the meantime.

As Gus turned around, he caught sight of his father coming out of the kitchen. "Daddy?"

Brian knelt down in front of his child; he had to quickly swing his head out of the way to avoid receiving a slobbery kiss from Tricky standing next to them. He gave the dog a warning look before he responded softly, "Yeah, Sonny Boy?"

"Why does Jus'n look so sad?"

Brian swallowed hard. His child always _was_ much too perceptive for his own good and didn't pull any punches, especially when he and Justin were involved. He loved Gus for his compassion and sweet nature, but sometimes his child had a way of cutting through all the bullshit to force him to consider questions that he sometimes would prefer not to answer. And right now the fact that Justin was sad because of him certainly qualified as one of those questions. Deciding to dodge the question for as long as possible he asked, "Why do you think he looks sad?"

"Because his eyes look all puffy like mine do when I've been crying. And he's not smiling right. And he wouldn't read me my bedtime story."

His normally-glib father sputtered a little as he replied, "Maybe he's just getting a cold or something, Gus. Sometimes people look like that when they're sick."

"But he looked fine before," Gus countered to Brian's consternation. "And he was smiling a lot more when he got here. Daddy, can't you do something to make him feel better?"

Brian sighed as he answered softly, "I'm sure he just needs some rest, Buddy. Don't worry about him; he'll be fine." Deciding to cut off their conversation before he dug himself into an even deeper hole, he stood up to say, "It's really starting to snow hard outside and it's getting a lot colder; you'd better take Tricky outside now before it gets any worse, okay? Don't forget, too; Santa won't stop here until he knows that you're in bed asleep."

Gus nodded; he was excited about Santa coming just like any other boy, but on the other hand he was still worrying about Justin. "Okay, Daddy," he finally replied as he turned to walk down the hallway to the closet to retrieve his coat. A few minutes later with his father's help, he was bundled back up and ready to take Tricky outside one last time before retiring for bed.

* * *

><p><em>Four Hours Later – 12:30- a.m. – Britin <em>

Upstairs, Gus lay in bed, his hands behind his head on the pillow and deep in thought. His father had read one of his favorite books to him, _Where the Wild Things Are_, an hour ago. While he normally wound up falling asleep before the book was completely read, this time he had managed to stay awake the entire time. He had pretended to be extra sleepy when his father was finished, but once he left his eyes sprang back open and he just lay there, staring up at the ceiling lost in thought over what had happened earlier.

He didn't know if he couldn't sleep because he was excited about Santa coming or because he was still worried about Justin. Something just didn't seem right to him. Justin would never go off alone like that when he was here visiting; he always wanted to spend time with him. Why would he do that NOW? Was he really sick, then, like his Daddy said? What if he needed someone to take care of him or he got lonely all by himself?

Biting his lip in worry, he wondered what to do. He didn't want Justin to be lonely, but he didn't want Santa to pass him up in case he figured out he wasn't asleep in his bed like he was supposed to be; after all, anyone who could manage to bring presents to all the children in the world on one night and could fly through the air on a sled without getting cold had to be a very smart man, and he would know if he was following the rules or not. So what could he do?

Finally, an idea occurred to him as he sat up; Tricky, sleeping at the end of the bed, raised his head in curiosity as Gus slid the covers back from his bed and on slippered feet shuffled out of the room and down the hallway, guided by the soft glow of a nightlight plugged into one of the outlets. Carefully making his way downstairs by holding onto the banister's spindles, he arrived on the main floor and headed toward the study in search of pencil and paper.

Pulling open his father's middle desk drawer, he managed to locate a sheet of white paper and a pencil through the help of some moonlight streaming in from the large, tall windows before walking back out into the hallway and traveling the short distance to the living room, where a monstrously-tall white pine Christmas tree stood decorated to the nines in a sky blue-and-gold colored theme; fancily-wrapped packages of all sizes and shapes overflowed from underneath. He wondered fleetingly where Santa would fit all of his gifts as he walked over to the end table by the side of the couch and turned on the lamp located there. As Tricky stood there watching him, he began to carefully construct his letter to Santa:

_Dear Santa: Tricky and I have been very good boys this year. Honest. Please don't forget us. I will leave Tricky here to show you where I am. I promise to stay asleep. Love and hugs, Gus. XOXOXOX _

_P.S. Here are some cookies for you and some eggnog. It is for your own good. _

Carefully placing the note propped up against the plate of cookies and the eggnog that his father had left for Santa earlier, Gus turned to walk back out toward the front hallway closet and opened the glass-knobbed door. Tugging on the sleeve of his coat up above, he winced a little as the garment finally fell from its hanger, the metal clanging to the floor as he hurriedly slipped on his coat and then his boots. Zipping up his jacket and then flipping up his fake fur-trimmed hood, he disengaged the deadbolt and turned to face Tricky, who was obviously about to follow him outside.

The dog actually appeared to pout and his ears bent back in sadness as Gus firmly told him, "No, Boy. You have to stay here to tell Santa where I am, okay?" Feeling guilty over having to leave him, he reached over and scratched behind the dog's ears reassuringly before he made quickly slipped out before Tricky could follow him; quietly closing the door behind him, he turned and began to trudge his way around to the back of the house toward Justin's studio.

As he approached, he was thankful to see some lights shining from inside indicating that Justin was still awake. The snow was now up almost to the top of his boots, so his progress was slow as he finally made his way over to the door and, raising one gloved hand, began to knock three times. A few seconds later, he thought he heard noises from inside just before the door was opened; the force of the gusty wind swung it wide open on its hinges as it banged against the wood exterior.

"Gus!" Justin, silhouetted with the soft glow from behind him, called out in shock as he recognized who his snow-covered visitor was. "What in the world are you _doing _here, Buddy?" He quickly reached out and gently grabbed the child by his upper arm to lead him inside where a wood-burning stove was ablaze; it was the only method of heat in the structure, but with the relatively small size of the two rooms, it more than made the space cozy and warm.

Hurrying to close the door, Justin quickly undid Gus's coat and helped him out of his rubber boots, draping the wet coat over the back of a wooden desk chair. "You came out here by yourself?" he asked, although it had been obvious by the tracks in the snow that he had.

Gus nodded as Justin led him over to the couch to sit down; a partially-completed canvas was propped up on an easel near the back of the room where a wall of windows stood. It provided more than enough light during the day for Justin's painting. Tonight, he had tried to continue working on it, but all that had done was simply bring to mind how he had wound up in all this trouble in the first place; ultimately he had discarded that idea in favor of just taking a glass of red wine over by the fireplace and sitting on the couch to wallow in his anger and self-pity as he stared vacantly at the flames through the glass doors. As he peered over at the rosy-cheeked child, however, his melancholy lifted just a little to be replaced with curiosity and concern. "How did you get out here?" he asked him as he sat next to him on the couch and turned his body toward the child.

"I walked," Gus said simply.

Justin had to smile at that. Of course he did. "I know. But what are you _doing_ here?"

"I was worried about you," the boy replied honestly.

Justin frowned. "Worried? Why, Gus? I'm fine."

"Because…Because you looked sad earlier; like you didn't feel well. I thought you might need someone to take care of you."

Justin's eyes filled with tears as he swallowed the lump in his throat. "That's why you decided to walk out here?" Gus nodded silently.

"But what about Santa? And how did you get out without setting off the security system?" He knew as a rule ever since Brian's loft had been robbed that his partner always made it a typical habit to engage the security system every night; how did Gus not manage to trip it on the way out? Had Brian not set it yet?

"I told Daddy not to set the alarm because I didn't want it to go off when Santa came down the chimney, and I left Tricky at the house so he could tell Santa where I was. I left him a note by his cookies and eggnog promising him that I would be asleep here when he got to the house so he would still leave my presents. Did I do something wrong?"

Justin tenderly looked into Gus's eyes and took one of his hands in his as he whispered reassuringly, "No, of course not. I'm always glad to see you, you know that. I always love your company."

Gus smiled in pleasure. "Can I sleep here with you then?"

Justin bit his lip in thought; he could tell as soon as he opened the door that the wind had kicked up considerably since he had first arrived this afternoon, and there had to be at least 6 to 8 inches of snow on the ground now. In addition, the temperatures were supposed to dip into the single digits tonight. It probably wasn't worth getting back out in the cold, and he could return Gus first thing in the morning before anyone else was awake. Everyone no doubt assumed he was safely tucked into bed at the moment anyway.

Noticing Gus staring at him expectantly, he finally nodded with a smile. "Okay," he agreed. "You can sleep here tonight; I'll put you in the twin bed and I can sack out here on the couch. But…As soon as it's daylight we need to get you back to the house before anyone notices that you're gone, okay?"

Gus nodded eagerly. "Okay. Do you have anything to eat first?"

Justin laughed. "Gus, it's almost one o'clock in the _morning_! Santa expects all the good boys and girls to be asleep by now. He has to start early so he can deliver all those presents in time, and he can't do it if you're still awake." He paused for a few seconds before deciding, "Okay – I'll tell you what. One half-glass of milk and some peanut-butter crackers; then it's off to bed for you…Deal?"

Gus nodded; he _loved_ peanut-butter crackers with milk. "Okay."

Justin smiled, feeling a little better about his situation now that Gus was here with him. He knew it still didn't resolve anything between him and Brian, but at least it gave him hope that eventually everything would turn out all right. Gus always had a way of lightening his mood not matter how bleak everything seemed.

Leaving the boy over at the couch, he walked over to the small, built-in kitchen cubby to retrieve the milk from the half-sized fridge and locate a couple packages of the peanut-butter crackers in the overhead cupboard. A few minutes later, Gus was satisfied as he polished off the last of the milk and wiped off his white mustache with the sleeve of his pajamas.

Grinning, Justin took the glass away from him as he said, "Okay, all good boys waiting for Santa definitely need to be in bed by now." Noticing Gus yawning widely, he reached down and scooped the small body up into his arms. Gus's arms wound themselves around Justin's neck as Justin held him up to carry him over to the small adjoining bedroom, reaching down with one hand just long enough to pull the covers away and gently lay the child down on the cool sheets. His heart melted at the sight of the drowsy boy that reminded him so much of his partner as Gus looked up at him through half-shuttered eyelids.

"Santa coming soon?" Gus murmured in a half-asleep state, struggling hard to keep his eyes open now.

Justin smiled down at him fondly as he sat on the edge of the bed and tenderly brushed some hair back from his eyes. "Yes, I'm sure he'll be here any time now, Buddy," he whispered. "I'll be right in the other room and I'll keep the door open if you need anything, okay?"

Gus nodded as his eyes fluttered a couple of times. Just before he went to sleep for good, he whispered, "Love you, Papa."

Justin's eyes filled with tears as he pursed his lips tightly together in an attempt to keep them falling, but it was no use; he sniffled a couple of times before he whispered back, "I love you too, Gus." He leaned down to kiss Gus gently on the cheek before pulling the covers back up and tucking them around the small body. He sat there for a few minutes, just watching the child sleep before he finally rose gingerly from the bed so as not to disturb him. Turning on the small lamp next to the bed, he quietly walked toward the door and back out into the other room, leaving the door ajar in case Gus needed him.

After retrieving a small throw from an overstuffed chair, he lay down on the couch and, using the matching throw pillow for his head, was asleep within a few minutes' time, the crackling of the fire the only sound above the howling wind blowing outside. Justin's emotional weariness as well as tiredness from his plane trip earlier plunged him into a deep sleep; so deep that he failed to hear the popping noises coming from one of the kitchen's electrical outlets.

* * *

><p><em>One Hour Later <em>

Deep in the early hours of the night, Tricky restlessly roamed the halls of Britin, seeking a way to reunite with Gus who had left him unceremoniously behind when he had set out on his journey outside. Tricky had no way of knowing exactly where Gus had gone; he only knew he was out there somewhere and he didn't care for being left behind.

He scoped out every inch of the house, realizing to his sorrow that Gus had not returned, before he decided to try a different tactic. After helping himself to a large drink of water and a few gulps of his dry food in the kitchen for fortification, he returned upstairs to begin searching each room for assistance. The room housing the two women who were his master's mothers was closed; the next one where Gus had been sleeping was open, but his master was long gone and the sheets were cold.

Finally after arriving at the room at the end of the hall, Tricky used his nose to push the partially-closed door wider and trotted inside, lifting his nose in the air to sniff the familiar, intoxicating scent of his idol. Joyously, he bounded over to the figure huddled in the bed and catapulted his front paws onto the mattress. When the shrouded figure didn't move, he took his large head and nudged the bulge, but still nothing. Finally, he tried his last 'trick': a loud, shrill bark.

"Huh?" Brian bolted up into the bed in alarm, jolted out of a restless, dream-filled sleep; in his mind he was envisioning Justin using edible paints on some hot young twink in the shower before washing them off with his tongue. Realizing to his relief that it all been a dream, though, he twisted his body around as he made out the familiar outline of his son's dog half-on, half-off the bed silhouetted in the moonlight filtering through the nearby window. "What the fuck?" he growled in irritation as he pushed Tricky's body off the bed. "What are you doing in my _room_, Cujo?" he snapped, glancing over at the bedside clock to note that it was 2:00 a.m. "Fuck off!" he yelled as he punched his pillow to re-fluff it before plopping back down on the bed and turning his back to the mangy beast in an attempt to ignore him and hope he would just slink away to bother someone else.

But Tricky wasn't to be deterred; he promptly trotted over to the over side of the king-sized bed – Justin's side, and jumped completely on top of the mattress, towering over Brian like some furry Matterhorn.

"Shit!" Brian yelled as Tricky, feeling victorious now, dropped down onto his belly and began to lick Brian's face appreciatively. "Get OFF me!" he yelled at the dog as he roughly pushed him away; he quickly discovered, however, that it wasn't easy to rid oneself of a dog that weighed 130 pounds.

"Fuck!" Brian exclaimed in exasperation as he finally sat up in bed in defeat. "What in the fuck do you WANT?" he asked the dog. "Didn't Gus take you out earlier? Do you need to piss or take a crap _again_?" he asked the dog, knowing it was ridiculous to expect the dog to understand him. As he roughly pulled the covers back, however, and reached for his pair of jeans lying across the back of a nearby chair, Tricky decided he was finally getting somewhere as he promptly jumped down from the bed and ran over to Brian's side, circling him in glee.

"Don't get too excited, Cujo," Brian warned him. "I'm only letting you out so you don't crap all over my hardwood floors. I expect you do your fucking business and then get the hell back in the house, capiche?" He shook his head in disgust as he hurried to locate a warm sweater and some socks out of the dresser before stuffing his feet into his boots from the closet.

As soon as he began to walk toward the bedroom door, Tricky quickly rushed out ahead of him, his tail swishing back and forth in triumph as they headed down the hallway. Brian instinctively peeked inside his son's room as they went by, noticing in the dim light that Gus wasn't in bed. His aggravation immediately turned to concern; where would Gus be at this time of night, especially with him expecting Santa? He knew Gus would be sure to be in bed especially on this night for fear Santa wouldn't stop to leave him presents; it was all he had talked about all day; that is, until Justin showed up.

"Gus?" he whispered into the room, although he knew it was a waste of time. The room was small enough that he could readily ascertain that he wasn't there. Where could he be?

A short yip from Tricky made him turn around. "Okay, okay," he grumbled to the pooch. Sighing, he followed Tricky down the hallway, pausing just long enough to make sure Gus hadn't made his way to Mel and Lindsay's room before descending the stairs. He took just long enough to retrieve his leather coat from the hall closet and slip on his gloves before following Tricky down the hallway, still puzzled as to where his son was. His concern began to grow as he noticed the kitchen dark and silent; that was the last logical place where he thought Gus might be, and now that it was clear he wasn't there, the faint tendrils of panic were starting to set in. As he passed the living room, he noticed what looked like a note propped up against the plate of cookies and eggnog he had carefully left for Santa's visit later; he had planned on using Cujo as his 'canine garbage disposal' later to rid them of the carb-laden treats before Gus woke up.

Walking over to the note, he scanned the contents and breathed a sigh of relief at the same time he marveled at his son's independent streak; apparently Gus had taken it upon himself to go visit his partner out in his studio. He hesitated, wondering if he should go fetch him or not, but ultimately decided against it, for as much as he was still irritated with Justin, one thing could never be in doubt; his partner loved Gus just as deeply as he did and he would ensure that his son was safe and sound until morning. He wasn't about to go scampering over to Justin's studio in the middle of the night, looking like he couldn't spend one night in the house without him, although he had to admit his sleep so far had been of the distinctly restless kind.

Impatient and feeling ignored, Tricky began to whimper as he stood there, eager to get outside. Rolling his eyes, Brian walked down the hall and into the kitchen, pulling the door open as Tricky bounded through it like a shot, launching himself into the midst of the blanket of freshly-fallen snow.

Brian shook his head as he quickly closed the door back against the blustery wind and waited on the other side of the barrier; he wasn't about to go out into that bone-chilling cold if he didn't have to. Let Tricky do his business and then when he realized he wasn't following him to play, he would return soon enough.

* * *

><p><em>Same time – Justin's Studio<em>

In his sleep, Justin's subconscious mind registered the heat surrounding him, initially deciding it was due to the warmth being generated by the wood-burning stove. The sound of something popping, however, jarred him from his sleep as he raised his body up on the couch, immediately noticing the room was brighter than it should be – and a lot smokier. The fogginess in his brain immediately cleared as he recognized what it was – the kitchen was in flames, red-orange fingers advancing toward the ceiling from just above the top of the stove. The wooden structure was no match or hindrance for the unrelenting march of the flames as they began to skitter across the top of the walls, perilously close to the bedroom door.

Bolting off the couch, he ran full speed toward the bedroom. "Gus! Gus! Wake up!" he screamed as he rushed into the room, terrified for Gus's safety. He didn't give the boy time to fully wake up before he scooped him up, covers and all, and rushed back toward the door, only to be horrified that the flames were licking around the door. He thought fleetingly of running through the flames and toward the front door of the studio, but noticed the main door was now completely engulfed in fire.

Gus coughed as he held onto Justin tightly, his arms wrapped around the blond's neck in a virtual vise. "Jus'n! I can't breathe!" he coughed out as he burrowed his face in Justin's chest.

"I know, Buddy, I know," Justin murmured soothingly, trying to take shallow breaths but finding it almost impossible; he forced himself to remain calm, even though the other room was quickly being swallowed up in fire. There would be no way to escape through the front door, he decided, as he turned back into the bedroom and slammed the door shut with his foot to try and hold back at least part of the flames. Looking around frantically, he rushed into the bathroom to turn the water on and grab a washcloth, placing it over Gus's mouth. "Keep…Keep this against your face!" he instructed Gus as his coughing became more and more pronounced. "And don't let _go_!"

Running over toward the window with Gus still in his arms, he told him reluctantly, "Gus, I've got to let you down for a second…"

But Gus held on for dear life, frozen with fear. "No, Jus'n, don't leave me!"

"I will NEVER leave you, Gus," Justin managed to say, noticing with horror that he could see angry, roiling smoke now rushing through the crack under the door. He knew they were going to quickly run out of time. "Gus, you've got to let go for just a minute – I've got to get us out of here!"

Feeling terrible but knowing it was necessary, Justin finally pried Gus's arms away from his neck and placed him on the bed as the little boy began to cry. "It'll be okay, Buddy," Justin coughed out as he reached up for the old, wooden casement window and turned the knob to unlock it. Pushing against it with all his might, it wouldn't budge, however, no doubt firmly sealed shut by the paint that had been applied to the frame during the remodeling. "Fuck!" he cried out in despair, knowing he had to find a way out and fast. Looking around in desperation, he spied the wooden desk chair located a few feet away and quickly rushed over to grab it by the seat.

"Cover your eyes, Gus!" he yelled as he raised the chair and swung at the window with all his might; he heard a distinctive crack as the glass gave way but to his horror it didn't break open. Adrenalin rushing through him, he reared back and with a vengeance slammed the chair against the window again. This time, the glass promptly splintered into a million tiny pieces, raining prisms of color all over the bed, the floor, and Justin.

Unmindful of the bleeding, small cuts on his face, Justin reached for the blanket on the bed and quickly folded it several times over the bottom of the window where the jagged edges remained. Covering his mouth as much as he could with his sleeve, he yelled over to the boy, "I'm going to give you a lift up in the window so you can climb out. It's going to be okay, Gus," he told him reassuringly as he glanced behind him worriedly, noticing the flames were now licking at the bottom of the door. By some miracle, the small lamp near the bed was still aglow as he located his boots lying where he had toed them off earlier and his pea coat draped at the end of the bed. He picked them up to hurriedly shove the boots onto the little boy's feet and swaddle him in his oversized coat; they were way too big for Brian's son, but they would do for now against the bitter cold blowing into the room and the snow outside.

He reached for Gus, who held onto his waist tightly. "Get ready!" he shouted as the sound of falling timber in the other room threatened to drown out his voice. "You're going to be just like Spiderman!" he encouraged him. "Get ready to climb out the window!"

"Come with me!" Gus cried, his face now sooty and lined with tear tracks.

Justin shook his head. "Only one of us can fit through the window at a time; I'll be right behind you!" he promised as he scooped Gus up and, being careful to make sure he didn't hit his head on the top of the broken window, held him out over the ground. "Put your feet down!" he yelled as Gus's legs dropped out from under him. He watched as the boy landed on his butt with a soft thud on the ground and scrambled to stand up in the oversized boots. Satisfied that Gus was scared but okay, he shouted at him, "Gus! Run to the house and call for help!"

"But…"

"GO, Gus! DO it! I'll be right behind you! Run to the house NOW and find your father!"

Gus hiccupped through his tears as he finally turned and, with Justin's pea coat wrapped loosely around him, he started back toward the house as Justin instructed. He walked several feet away before he turned to glance back at the now fully-engulfed structure, searching the window for any sign of Justin. But there was none.

* * *

><p><em>AN: Sorry to end it on such a terrible cliffhanger! I do have about half of the next chapter written, and if I had my arm twisted sufficiently I MIGHT be able to finish the story in this next chapter and post it ahead of the other stories. Any votes either way?_


	9. What is Most Important

_Justin's life hangs in the balance as Gus seeks help from his father. Will Brian reach his partner in time?_

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><p><em>AN: This chapter is much shorter than my normal ones, but I didn't want to leave my readers in suspense any longer. Hope you enjoy it and it allays everyone's fears! BTW - I am not a medical expert, so I hope you will allow me a little 'literary license' if necessary. Here goes!:)  
><em>

* * *

><p><p>

Brian gazed impatiently out the glass doors onto the snow-covered backyard, praying Tricky would make a short go of his outside trek and return soon to be let in, when a sight caused his heart to stop; against the dimly-light night he could distinctly make out flames coming from the roof of Justin's studio. "Oh, my God!" he screamed out as he yanked the door open and fished frantically for his cellphone to call 911. Yelling over the phone, he took off at a desperate run toward the exit gate at the back of the fenced-in yard. "Justin! Gus! Where ARE you? Answer me!" he kept yelling over and over again as he told the dispatcher there was a fire and verified the address.

Tricky followed closely at his heels, knowing something was going on but unable to figure out what it was; all he knew was that it seemed like they were going to play a game and his idol was excited about it, which made _him _ excited. Brian's lungs threatened to explode as he ran full speed toward the remodeled stable housing Justin's studio and the two guys he loved more than life itself. "Justin! Gus!" he kept shouting at the top of his lungs, his heart threatening to burst as he realized the studio was totally engulfed in fire. "No…_God_!" he shouted in despair, just before he heard his son calling his name from nearby.

"Daddy! Daddy!"

"Gus!" Brian shouted urgently as a small, black form came trudging up toward him out of the smoky blackness. Brian ran up to his son and scooped him up into his arms, noticing the boy was wearing his partner's coat and boots. "Are you all right?"

"I'm scared, Daddy!" Gus wailed as Tricky came running up to them; the dog began to run madly around in the snow as if he were playing with them, totally unaware of the drama presently unfolding.

Brian hugged his child tightly to his chest, awash with relief that his son was terrified but otherwise seemed all right. "Where's Justin?" he asked urgently as he pulled his son back to look into his smudged, tear-stained face.

"He…he was supposed to follow me out of the bedroom!" Gus cried. "He _promised _me, Daddy! Where is he?"

"Brian!" He turned as he heard Lindsay and Mel come rushing up to them; both women had heard the sirens approaching the house and had looked out the window, noticing with horror that the studio was on fire. They panicked as they discovered Gus was missing from the house and, barely taking time to throw their coats and boots on over their pajamas, they had rushed out the backdoor to search for him.

"Mommy! Momma!" Gus cried out as Brian pushed Gus into Lindsay's arms. "Stay back here!" he demanded as he ran as fast as he could toward the back of the studio where the small bedroom was located. The sirens were coming closer and closer now, piercing the stillness of the night as two fire engines and a paramedic truck drove up the long, winding driveway and stopped in front of the house; several firemen immediately jumped down from the truck and began to pull hoses toward the scene of the fire.

"Justin! Justin!" Brian screamed at the top of his lungs, thoughts of other horrifying moments running through his mind. _Please….God….No_ played over and over again in his head as he rushed over to the now-destroyed window and looked in; his blood ran cold as he peered through the smoke to see Justin lying unconscious face up half-on, half-off the bed; he was apparently unaware of the flames that were almost at his feet as Brian placed his hands on the windowsill and immediately jumped into the room without a moment's hesitation.

His heart was pounding so hard it felt like it would burst from his chest as he knelt for just a second to feel for Justin's pulse at his wrist; he let out the breath he had been holding as he detected a fairly strong pulse before he lifted Justin's limp body up into his arms to carry him the few steps over to the window. He was trying to decide how best to get Justin outside when a fireman appeared seemingly out of nowhere. "I've got him," he instructed as he reached for Justin under the armpits and pulled him out of the window as Brian pushed from behind.

Noticing the structure was on the verge of collapse, the fireman sternly told Brian, "You need to get out of there immediately, Sir," as Justin was hefted outside into his arms. Brian had just enough time to climb out through the window when he looked behind him and saw two of the massive, exposed beams come crashing down onto the bed and set the mattress aflame. He didn't have time to consider what could have been before he turned in concern toward his partner, who was now lying limp and lifeless on a canvas stretcher that had been carried over to the scene from the paramedic's truck. A portable oxygen mask was covering Justin's darkened face as Brian knelt down next to him and reached for his hand, savoring the warmth he felt there despite the bitter cold. He rubbed his partner's cheek with his other hand as he silently begged him to come back to him.

"Sir, we need to move him somewhere warm immediately or he's at risk of frostbite," he was told as he nodded silently; not breaking his hold on Justin's hand, he walked with them over to the back gate and into the fenced-in area, his eyes never leaving the still form beside him. As they entered the back of the house with the stretcher, he glanced over briefly to make sure that Gus was being attended to by another paramedic at the kitchen table; Mel and Lindsay were sitting next to him, Lindsay's arm around his shoulders comfortingly as the man checked his vital signs.

As soon as the door slid open, however, Gus jumped up from his place at the table, followed by Tricky who had been sitting underneath in his customary spot. "Jus'n!" he shouted in alarm as he ran over to the blond, his face contorted with worry. "Is he going to be okay? Why is he asleep, Daddy?"

Brian swallowed hard, not knowing yet _what_ was wrong but also knowing how terrified his son was over Justin's condition; he certainly didn't want to add to his fears. "He's going to be fine, Gus," he told him adamantly. "The paramedics are going to fix him up good as new."

He watched as Gus walked around to the other side of the gurney and clasped Justin's other hand as he instructed the fireman and paramedic, "In here," and led them down the hallway and into the living room where the fire was thankfully still blazing, providing some much-needed warmth. The festive decorations seemed to mock Brian as he stared worriedly at his partner's still form, the normal beautiful alabaster skin blackened and sooty-looking.

"Justin," Brian murmured as the men set his partner down gently on the large, oval-shaped area rug and the paramedic began to check his heart with a stethoscope and take his pulse. "Wake up, Sunshine. Please wake up." At that moment, everything that had happened the past week promptly drained from his mind as he concentrated on the one thing that mattered: his partner's life and how empty his own would be if he wasn't in it. He didn't care at that moment how atypical or emotional his pleas sounded coming from his lips as he kept softly encouraging Justin to regain consciousness. "Come on, Justin; open your eyes! I _love_ you, damn it! God…Please, don't _do_ this!" _If something happens to you after the way we had parted earlier_…He squeezed his eyes tightly together for a moment, unable to even consider that thought, UNWILLING to consider it.

The men exchanged glances with each other over the man's heartfelt words as the paramedic continued to check Justin's vitals while the fireman held the oxygen mask over Justin's nose and mouth. "His vital signs are strong," the fireman told him encouragingly as Brian nodded mutely; he wouldn't be satisfied, no matter _how_ strong they were, until Justin regained consciousness and he knew he was all right.

As Brian wearily brushed his other hand through his hair, he watched as Gus reached over and softly stroked Justin's cheek near the hard plastic mask. "Wake up, Papa," he crooned softly. "It's time to wake up." Brian's eyes misted over at the mention of the word _papa_, but he couldn't say he was surprised by it; Gus had thought of Justin as his other father for a long time now.

Suddenly, Justin's body jerked as his eyes flew open in momentary disorientation and he coughed into the mask as he struggled to sit up from his constraints.

"Justin!" Brian cried out in relief as he placed his hand on the slim shoulder. "Don't sit up," he commanded as the paramedic removed the mask from his face and Justin gasped out a breath.

"Actually, it's probably better that he does," the paramedic told him as he gently helped Justin to a sitting position on the gurney. "Take some deep breaths, Son."

Justin tightened his grip on Brian's hand as he struggled to inhale oxygen through his damaged lungs; Brian placed his free hand around Justin as he rubbed gentle circles on his back. Justin's grasp was surprisingly strong as he held tightly onto Brian's hand in a painful clutch, but Brian didn't care; at that moment, to him it was the most wonderful feeling in the world.

Justin turned to look over at Gus. "Okay?" he asked hoarsely before he coughed again.

"I'm fine, Papa," he told Justin as he reached over to hug him around the neck, enormously relieved that Justin was finally awake. "I was so scared when I didn't see you! Are you okay?"

Justin managed a weak smile and a nod. "Never better," he managed to croak out, wanting to reassure Brian's son. "You were very brave."

"Justin!" Mel cried out as she and Lindsay came rushing in. "Thank God! Is he all right?"

"I think he'll be okay," the paramedic told them as he held an ophthalmoscope up to look into Justin's eyes to check for any retina damage; after several seconds he nodded in satisfaction before he advised, "I would recommend he be checked out at the hospital just to make sure, though."

"No," Justin protested, his voice raspy and weak. "No hospital." He turned to look pleadingly into Brian's eyes.

"Justin…"

But his partner shook his head firmly. "No…Please." He coughed again almost violently as Brian continued to stroke his back soothingly. "No," he repeated.

Brian sighed as he looked over at the paramedic; he knew Justin would be downright bullheaded about it if he insisted, but he suppose he couldn't blame him. "He's had some bad experiences with hospitals," he offered by way of explanation. "Couldn't I just keep a close eye on him _here_? If he gets worse I'll force him to go to the hospital, even if I have to use a fireman's carry to do it."

The fireman smiled at Brian's vow as the paramedic pondered his request; he had a strong suspicion that this determined man would do just that for his partner if the need arose. He finally nodded in agreement. "I guess that would be okay, since he's conscious and his vitals are strong; I don't see any retina damage, either, which is a good sign." He turned to look at Justin as he advised, "It may take a few days for the smoke to completely clear from your lungs and your voice may be sore and hoarse for a while. If you notice any trouble breathing at all, or if your voice gets any worse, I would seek treatment immediately. In the meantime, get plenty of rest to allow your body to recover."

"Don't worry; I'm not letting him out of my sight," Brian promised as he curled his hand around Justin's shoulder, grateful for the familiar warmth; it was a feeling that for just a brief moment in time he thought he might not ever feel again. Justin, worn out from all of the day's events, leaned into Brian's side for comfort, closing his eyes as the weariness seeped into every part of his body.

"In fact, if you're done looking him over, I'm taking him up to bed," Brian told the paramedic as the man nodded his agreement.

Justin's eyes fluttered open in weak protest. "Brian…"

"Don't argue with me, Sunshine," Brian softly scolded him, not caring if either stranger heard his endearment for his partner as he slid his hands under Justin's thighs and stood up with him in his arms. Justin's feeble protest that he could walk upstairs without any help faded away as he looked into Brian's determined face. Nodding in resigned acquiescence, he laid his head against Brian's chest as his partner began to carry him down the hallway and over toward the stairs.

"Gus…" Lindsay said as the boy hopped up and Tricky promptly rose to his feet to follow after the two men. "Justin – and YOU – both need some rest. You can see him later. Your father will take good care of him."

"But Mommy…"

Mel, the authoritarian in their family, spoke up. "No, Baby, you've had more than enough excitement for one night, and in case you've forgotten, you need to be in bed before Santa will come." She nodded over toward the plate of cookies and eggnog. "See – he hasn't been here yet because he hasn't eaten what you left him," she pointed out the evidence, ever in attorney mode. "If you don't go up to bed now, there's a chance he won't be able to come before daylight. I'm sure your father will make sure that Justin is fine until you can see him again tomorrow; you heard what the paramedic said. He needs his rest as well."

Gus nodded in reluctance; he dearly wanted to see Justin to make sure he really was okay, but he also was still a little boy waiting for Santa to arrive and he wanted his presents. "Okay, Momma," he agreed as she took his hand to lead him upstairs.

She turned to Lindsay. "I'm going to give him a quick bath, Linds, to get all this soot and smoke off him and I'll put him to bed if you can handle whatever needs to be done down here."

Lindsay nodded, silently understanding that it was going to be her responsibility to not only take care of the paramedic and firemen but also play Santa for their child and make sure all of Gus's presents were under the tree before he woke up later that morning. The two of them had stayed up late having to do some last-minute assembling of a bike for Gus that they hadn't had time yet to place all of Santa's presents under the tree; it was probably very fortuitous in hindsight since it helped spur their child to go to bed now.

Turning her attention back to the emergency personnel still congregated in Brian's living room, she signed off on the necessary acknowledgments as they explained the fire marshal would be back the day after tomorrow to try and establish a cause for the blaze which appeared to be accidental at this point; as soon as they had departed, she made her way over to the window seat where she and Mel had managed to stow Gus's presents from Santa to begin the arduous but necessary task of arranging them around the tree.

* * *

><p>Brian didn't hear a peep out of his exhausted partner the entire time he was carrying him up the steps; he was always kidding Justin about how much he ate, but as he held him in his arms he realized how light he really was. He took a moment to cherish the strong heartbeat he felt against his body, taking solace that Justin was, indeed, here in his embrace and had once more dodged a potential lethal bullet. How many times would that have to happen in their lifetimes, he wondered? Too many, he decided. ONE time was one too many as far as his soulmate was concerned.<p>

As Justin snuggled a little deeper into his hold, he silently berated himself for keeping their disagreement simmering to the point where it could have been too late to do something about it. If Justin had been seriously hurt tonight – or worse – he never would have forgiven himself. The thought of nearly losing him again made him realize what was – and _wasn't_ – important. Yes, trust and honesty were important, but deep down he had understood why Justin had done what he had done. He hadn't liked it, but he understood; he wasn't exactly the most open-minded person when it came to his partner and any possible competition for his affections was always met with suspicion and wariness, even though he knew Justin's love for him was real and binding. They would have to work at improving their open communication with each other, perhaps - BOTH of them needed it; but tonight, he was more concerned with taking care of his partner and letting him know that no matter what happened – or what WILL happen in the future – his love for him would never change.

He cradled his cheek against the top of Justin's ash-covered head as he reached the top of the stairs and turned down the hallway toward their master bedroom. He could easily detect the odor of smoke invading every follicle of the normally golden, sweet-smelling hair, but he didn't care; it helped him to remember that Justin had saved his son's life tonight and how close his partner had come to losing his _own_ life in the process. He closed his eyes briefly as if to force the thought out of his mind before arriving at the bedroom door; he didn't hesitate as he bypassed the bed and walked over, instead, to the adjoining, spacious bathroom. It was only when they were next to the shower stall that he reluctantly lowered Justin to the floor; as Justin slowly emerged from his drowsy state and stood up to face him, Brian automatically began to unbutton his shirt. At that moment he wouldn't have cared if Justin smelled like a sewer or a garbage dump before putting him to bed, but he knew from a health standpoint that with his allergies it wouldn't be wise or healthy for him to inhale smoke all night as he slept.

Justin stared back at his partner, his eyes shining back at him like a beacon through his smoky-colored face; Brian's heart lurched at the sight, so reminiscent of another time years ago when he had gone seeking Justin the night of that horrible bombing. It was way too similar to back then, and the same type of pain and anguish that he had felt that night came rushing back to him as he contemplated what could have been lost forever before he had had a chance to tell Justin how he really felt.

As if reading his mind, Justin reached out and cupped his hand around Brian's cheek. "I'm okay," he whispered, his voice still raspy from the smoke. "I'll be fine. You don't have to do this."

"The fuck I don't," Brian growled as he gently swatted Justin's hands away from his shirt. "You're dead on your feet. Let me take care of you," he asked gruffly, the emotion evident in his voice. Justin nodded as he locked gazes with Brian's, dropping his hands to his side in mute acceptance as Brian finished unbuttoning his shirt and slid it off his shoulders for it to fall down upon the marble floor. Brian sucked in a breath at the marked contrast of pale, creamy-colored skin and the sooty, grayish flesh that had been exposed to the smoke and fire.

Taking a breath to calm his nerves, he reached to unbutton Justin's jeans and unzip them, grasping the pants and Justin's briefs to slowly pull them down the slender body. He squatted down as Justin raised each leg in turn so his partner could remove drenched socks, realizing for the first time that Justin had apparently been sleeping when the fire had occurred and had given Gus his boots to wear for protection, bypassing his own needs. He paused for a moment to gently massage Justin's feet one at a time, turning them slightly to examine them closely for any signs of frostbite. To his relief, they felt cold as hell, but there was nothing that appeared remiss; the skin was pink and slightly wrinkled like it normally was.

He slowly rose to his feet to find Justin watching him intently. "I noticed you gave Gus your boots to wear." He phrased it as a statement of fact, not a question as Justin shrugged slightly. Brian shook his head as he felt his eyes watering over the love he felt more and more each day for this incredible man who had such great love for his child.

"I love him," Justin stated softly in explanation.

Brian nodded. "I know," he whispered. "And I love _you._"

He noticed Justin's eyes widening at that declaration and the blue eyes clouding up, threatening to spill the tears lying there, but he pretended not to notice as he quickly stripped out of his own clothes. Taking Justin's wrist firmly but gently to tug him toward the shower stall, he opened the door to turn the showerhead on, impatiently waiting for it to warm up to a sufficient level before he stepped in with Justin following along behind him.

His partner looked like he could sleep for the next week as he stood there swaying slightly while Brian took a bar of French milled soap from a nearby shelf and, holding it under the shower stream briefly, began to gently rub it over Justin's neck to remove the fire residue from his body, exposing the familiar alabaster skin underneath. He lathered the soap generously in the palms of his hands and placed it down on the shelf before reaching over to stroke his fingers over Justin's sooty face as his partner closed his eyes to keep the soap away, his hand reaching out to grasp Brian's bicep for support. Brian took longer than needed to worship every curve of his lover's face; the slope of his nose, the full, plush lips, the small indentation in his chin, his jaw, his delicate ears, everything; almost as if he realized how he might not have ever had this opportunity again if events had gone differently before he gently pushed Justin under the running water to rinse all of the horrible evidence of the past few hours away.

He made sure to wash every inch of Justin's hair and skin, turning him around at one point to hold him against his body, his arms winding around his waist in part comfort and part reassurance before at last his partner once more resembled the beautiful man he had the pleasure of admiring constantly. He had to smile as he realized that despite Justin's total exhaustion and weariness, his cock apparently hadn't suffered the same fate; he could feel it becoming hard in his hand as he washed the shaft in an up and down motion. He heard a soft moan of longing from his lover as he whispered in his ear from behind, "You're going to have to wait a while, Sunshine, until the rest of your body catches up. But don't worry; I'll make sure both our dicks get fully reacquainted later."

Finally satisfied that Justin was as clean as he was going to get, he reached to turn the faucet off and pulled him gently out of the shower, reaching for a heated towel to dry every inch of his body almost reverently before using the same towel to quickly do a cursory job on himself. "Come on, Sleeping Beauty," he teased Justin as he pulled him toward the bedroom; Justin's eyes fluttered as he half-walked, half-stumbled toward the bedroom; Brian, seeing him faltering, again scooped him up into his arms and, lesbionic context be damned, carried him the few steps over to the bed and, reaching down to quickly pull the covers back, gently laid him down on the sateen sheets. He took a moment to admire the beauty of his lover peering up at him before he walked around to the other side of the bed and joined Justin under the sheets. Almost of one accord, the two lovers turned on their sides to face each other.

Brian could clearly see Justin struggling to stay awake as he opened his mouth to speak.

"Justin…"

But his partner shook his head. "No…Let me talk," he insisted, his voice cracking a little; Brian thought he sounded just a bit stronger now, however, as he said, "I'm sorry for what happened."

"Shit, Justin," Brian quietly growled as he reached to clasp his hand; his partner threaded his slender fingers through his as he told him, "You saved my son's _life_ tonight! Let's not talk about that anymore; it's over with. We both could have handled it better, okay? But it's not important now. Tonight made me realize what's important and what's _not_ important, and that is so way down on the list." He scooted over a little closer to his partner as he told him, "What _is_ important is that we're together, and you and Gus are both safe and sound."

"But…"

"Justin Taylor, do you _always_ have to have the last word, even when you sound like a male version of Kathleen Turner?" Justin smiled at him sheepishly as he nodded.

Brian curled his lips under as he admitted, "Although, I have to confess it _does_ sound kind of sexy in a way. But I prefer the _old_ voice." He squeezed Justin's hand. "Now you go to sleep and get some rest. I know a little boy that despite all the excitement tonight will be back up at the break of dawn, which I'm guessing will be in about four hours' time. Now close your eyes," he whispered. "And I'll be right here when you wake up."

Justin blinked through unshed tears as he nodded. Brian watched as the golden eyelashes fluttered closed before he scooted even closer and wrapped his free hand around Justin's waist. The last thing he remembered before he, too, drifted off to sleep was Justin's voice whispering to him, "I love you, too."

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><p><em>AN: I'll have at least an epilogue to this one before I'm done - thank you again for all the comments!:P)_


	10. Jingle Balls: Conclusion

_Christmas morning arrives for one excited boy, his ever-present dog, and two lovers rediscovering each other._

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><p><p>

_ Thanks to Boriqua522 for looking this over for me as always.:)_

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><p><em>Early the Next Morning - Daylight<em>

The sun was just over the horizon and filtering through the slightly-open curtains as Justin's mind slowly seeped into consciousness. The first thing he noticed as he came into full wakefulness was the warm body spooned closely up against his; a bronze, muscled arm was wrapped securely around his waist from behind. It was a body he immediately recognized by feel as well as smell and he smiled despite the soreness he could still detect in his throat and the slight heaviness in his lungs. He lay there in the quiet of the early morning hour, hearing Brian's soft, regular breathing near his ear and feeling oddly thankful, despite everything that had happened last night; for as awful and terrifying as it had been, it had served to bring them back together.

He tried to remain absolutely still, not wanting to disturb his partner, but Brian must have been attuned to his every movement because as soon as he shifted his body ever so slightly, he felt Brian's head move to lodge in the crook of his neck and shoulder. He felt a kiss on his shoulder as Brian turned him in his arms to face him. He couldn't help the flutter in his heart at the tender look he was receiving; it was so different from the ones he had been seeing on his handsome partner's face lately.

Brian reached over to brush some now silky-blond hair back from Justin's eyes as he stared into the beautiful face, a face he had been afraid he might never see again. "How do you feel?" he asked softly as he traced the soft lips with his fingers.

Justin reached up to link his fingers with Brian's before he responded; he knew better than to gloss over his condition with his partner, especially after everything that had happened during the previous week. "My throat's still a little sore," he admitted. "And I'm still having a little trouble breathing." Brian opened his lips to speak, but Justin shook his head to silence him. "I'm definitely feeling better, though," he reassured him as he took their clasped hands and moved them down to curl around Brian's cock, which instantly responded to Justin's touch. "_Much_ better."

Brian bit back a moan at the sensation; it had been much too long since they had been together and he was horny as hell at the thought of fucking his beautiful partner over and over again until Justin begged for mercy. But he _also_ knew that not only was Justin still recuperating, but his son would no doubt be bursting through their bedroom door at any moment on his quest to rush down to the living room to open his presents from Santa.

He gently pried Justin's probing fingers away from his cock as he brought them back up to his mouth to kiss each digit one by one; the pout on Justin's face mirrored his own disappointment as he advised regretfully, "You know Gus will be in here any minute."

Justin dropped his head against Brian's chest in defeat. "So unfair," he muttered as Brian chuckled.

"You're telling ME?" he groused teasingly as Justin lifted his head to look into his face; he was so happy to hear his partner's familiar voice back to normal now. "Not only can we not fuck until Gus has opened up all his presents and we've oohed and aahed all over them, but you can't suck me off until your throat gets better."

Instead of receiving the expected look of disappointment, however, to his surprise Justin grinned back at him impishly as he advised, "Well, I guess you'll just have to suck ME off twice as much, then."

Brian snorted. "How do you know I want to?" he teased, even though that was a redundant question. He reached around to cup one cheek of his partner's luscious ass. "Well, at least your ass came out unscathed; now THAT would have been a REAL tragedy."

Justin smiled back at his partner in pleasure over his touch and nodded as he stared intently into Brian's eyes. "Brian?"

"Yeah, Sunshine?" He wondered briefly if they were about to discuss 'that' subject again; he had assumed that had finally been settled; at least he hoped so.

"My lips weren't damaged, either, you know," was the impertinent reply instead.

Brian laughed softly as he hooked one of his legs over Justin's to pull his body closer to his before their lips came together for a deep kiss; a kiss that spoke volumes regarding what they could have lost last night as well as their passion and abiding love for each other. It was several minutes before they reluctantly broke apart, breathless and sweaty and both wanting to stay there in bed, making love the rest of the day and making up for way too much time that they had been forced to spend apart but realizing that they couldn't.

Brian glanced over at the windows, noting the room was getting lighter by the minute. "We'd better get some clothes on before Gus gets here," he reluctantly told his partner, hating to get out of bed but knowing they must. He reached over to kiss Justin briefly on the lips again as he slid out of bed in search of his jeans from last night; noting they smelled like smoke, he walked over and retrieved a clean pair from their dresser drawer before handing a clean pair of Justin's chinos to him.

"Why waste time later?" he answered in response to Justin's raised eyebrow over his lack of providing him with a pair of briefs. He grinned as he, too, rose from the bed to slide his pants on just as Brian tossed him a dark red sweater; it was always one of Brian's favorites on him.

Just as soon as Brian had pulled on a dark gray cashmere sweater he had taken from the closet, just like he forecast the door burst open and a flash of child and canine came bounding into the room. "Jus'n!" Gus cried out as he ran full-tilt toward the blond. Brian didn't even have a chance to caution him against being too rough with his partner before Gus jumped on the bed next to him as Justin hugged him tightly against his chest.

His partner grunted before pulling back to look into Gus's ecstatic face. "Hey, Buddy!" he called out to him as Mel and Lindsay followed them into the bedroom. "How are you doingafter all the excitement last night?"

"I'm great!" Gus cried out as he held Justin's head between his small hands and stared into his eyes. "Are you all better now?" he asked softly. "I liked it when you made me climb out the window!" Now that everything was okay and he was about to open up all his Christmas presents, Gus had decided that all the drama and excitement from earlier this morning was actually pretty exhilarating. "Mommy said the fire marshal will be back tomorrow. Maybe he'll let me ride on his truck!"

Justin grinned. "Really? Well, maybe _I'll_ hitch a ride with him, too!"

"Do you think he'll bring his dog?"

Justin frowned. "His dog? What dog?"

"_You_ know," Gus gently chided him. "The one with the black and white spots."

From her place near the doorway, Lindsay smiled. "One of Gus's favorite books is _Sparky the Fire Dog._"

"Oh," Justin replied knowingly. He grinned at Gus. "Well, you never know, Buddy; we'll just have to wait and see. Why?"

"I thought Tricky might like to play with him, since you don't have a dog." He twisted around to look at his father, a puzzled look on his face. "Daddy, why don't you have a dog?"

Justin pursed his lips together tightly to keep from laughing. That was like asking Brian why he didn't have a vagina. "Yeah, Brian, why don't you have a dog?"

Brian glared at his partner over his traitorous question before he responded, "Well, no one could be as wonderful as Tricky here," he replied facetiously as he looked over at the massive dog currently lying near his feet. He sighed, still unable to fathom why of all people Tricky had chosen _him_ to be his favorite.

Justin laughed softly. "I'll work on that for you, Gus," he told him as the little boy nodded and beamed at him, thinking a second dog might be on the near horizon. Silently, though, Justin knew that was extremely unlikely, even though his partner seemed to be warming up just a bit to Tricky now.

From his position on the opposite side of the bed, Brian's eyes misted over as he glanced over at his lover and his son interacting together_. If things had been different…if Justin hadn't been there to get him out of that studio_…He shook his head to push those awful thoughts from his mind as Justin replied. "Well, I'm ready to go down and see what Santa's brought you! I'll bet he left you all kinds of great things, because you were a very brave boy last night, going and getting help for me."

Gus smiled at the compliment as he promptly jumped down from the bed, eagerly guessing what might be lying for him downstairs under the tree; Tricky, sensing something exciting about to happen again (he _loved_ this house!), let out a bark of anticipation and quickly rose to his feet to join him.

Brian shook his head in amusement at the chaos in his and Justin's bedroom. He never thought he would see such a blatantly domestic sight in his life, but he didn't care. Secretly he thought it was wonderful; it sure beat what the alternative might have been. "Well, let's go see, then, Sonny Boy!" he shouted out to his son as Gus ran over to him and he swept him up into his arms and then up onto his shoulders to give him an impromptu ride. Justin slid off the bed and followed along behind Brian, Gus and their friends, holding onto his partner's arm as Brian held onto Gus's hands to balance him. Tricky quickly gained ground on all of them, though, trotting eagerly toward the staircase and rushing down the steps in record pace ahead of everyone else as if he owned the place now.

As Brian watched the dog joyously bounding toward the living room where the tree was a few minutes later, he couldn't help thinking of the irony; as much as he had dreaded Cujo showing back up here at Britin, he owed that overzealous, boisterous mountain of fur a tremendous debt of gratitude. If it hadn't been for Tricky's insistence in going outside last night, he would have never known Justin's studio was on fire, and he would have never reached the wooden structure in time to save his partner. He thought briefly at how fate must have an odd sense of humor as he placed his son down and watched him run full speed into the living room, hearing soon afterward his shrieks of excitement and the ripping of wrapping paper as he tore into his presents from 'Santa.'

He lingered behind for a moment as the two mothers followed their son into the room, reaching for Justin's hand as his partner caught up to them. He pulled him to his side to bestow a short kiss on his lips. "You and I will unwrap our 'presents' later," he whispered huskily in Justin's ear as the blond blushed, knowing exactly what sort of 'unwrapping' he had in mind.

"How _much_ later?" Justin asked as he reached down between them to squeeze Brian's cock in his hand. "I always getimpatient when it's time to open presents."

Brian curled his lips under. "You really _are_ feeling better, aren't you?" He slid his arms around Justin's waist to lock them at his back as he pushed their bodies together, so relieved their recent difficulties had been pushed aside. "Bad as new again?" he asked, causing Justin to smile at the recollection of an earlier time.

"Yeah…Even better," Justin whispered against Brian's lips as he placed his hands on Brian's chest before they begin to kiss again; they had a LOT of making up to do. Both could feel their blatant, urgent desire for each other as their bodies molded together tightly, making Brian rethink his decision to wait to 'unwrap' their presents later. _Fuck, it had been way too long…_

The rest of the world faded away as their kiss began to deepen even more; Justin's hands slid around Brian's neck to pull him closer as their tongues began to duel for supremacy. Soft moans of pleasure poured from their lips as all of their earlier worries and cares quickly began to wash away. They silently wished they could stay that way forever, together in each other's arms, but they were soon interrupted by someone's cold, wet nose nudging itself against Brian's hands located behind Justin's back. "Shit!" he muttered as they broke apart and he yanked his hand away like it had been thrust inside a freezer compartment. "That's fucking _cold_! You've got wonderful timing, dog," he muttered to Tricky sarcastically; a bright blue ball was sticking out of their visitor's mouth, apparently a gift from Santa, as a pair of bright brown eyes peered up at him mischievously.

Justin laughed softly as he looked down at Tricky wagging his tail at Brian madly, totally oblivious to Brian's displeasure. "I think we're being summoned into the living room by the Welcome Wagon," he told his partner helpfully.

As if in agreement, Tricky barked right on cue. "Daddy, come and see!" He heard Gus call out as, arm-in-arm, the two men turned to walk into the festively-decorated room. In just a few minutes' time, Gus had managed to scatter gift wrap and bows all over the floor; open gifts were everywhere, the clear evidence of a boy totally spoiled by his mothers, his father, and his 'papa.' There was everything opened from a hard, plastic toboggan to ice skates to a new train set to a superhero action figure assortment and play sets. In true, little-boy fashion, the designer clothes that Brian had purchased for him were scattered somewhat haphazardly near the bottom of the stack, quickly discarded for much more 'exciting' attractions, one of which Gus was utilizing right now.

The little boy was sitting proudly at the moment on his new bike, a dark-blue, off-road model with silver, flame-like decals on the sides and deep-grooved tires, just perfect for riding over the varying, sometimes hilly terrain of Britin's grounds. "Look what Santa brought me!" he told his father excitedly. "Can I take it out for a ride?"

Brian led Justin over to the couch as they sat side-by-side; Mel and Lindsay nodded at them as they sat together on the nearby, matching leather loveseat watching their child happily astride his new bike; his face was lit up in delight, just like any child's would be on Christmas Day, and after all the tumultuous events from earlier that morning, it was a heartwarming sight to behold.

Brian grinned over at his son. "I think you'll have to wait until I can get the driveway plowed, Sonny Boy," he advised him. "I know it's meant to be ridden off-road, but it's not like a sled." Before Gus's lips could turn down into a pout, he added, "But the snow's perfect for taking your new toboggan out back on the hillside." Fortunately for Gus, the grounds were gently rolling, just perfect for a little boy to do some serious sledding.

"Yay!" Gus cried out happily as he hopped off the bike, ready to do some serious exploring. "Let's go _now _before it's all gone!"

Brian laughed. "Whoa, Tex! Let's let everyone else open up their presents first and eat some breakfast, then we'll drag Justin out with us for some sled riding," he said as he turned to look at his partner. "That is, if you're up to it."

Justin smiled. "Oh, I'm UP to it, all right," he told him huskily with a grin. His eyes widened as if he were just realizing something as he added, "Ohhh…Youmean the _sled _riding! Yeah, I can do that, too," he said as he licked his lips playfully.

"Twat," Brian whispered as he leaned in to affectionately grasp Justin by the scruff of his neck and pull him close. "Glad to hear it." The two exchanged a quick kiss before they pulled back slightly to resume their side-by-side stance.

Lindsay and Mel exchanged a look; apparently whatever problems that had existed between them before the fire had been satisfactorily addressed. They were acting lovey-dovey again, just like they had been at Thanksgiving.

"Okay, Daddy," Gus agreed somewhat grudgingly in response to his father's advice. He walked over to an apparel-sized box wrapped in gold-foil paper with a green bow. From the way it was sloppily taped and tied it was obvious who must have wrapped it. As Gus brought it over to his father, he told him proudly in verification, "Open this one, Daddy; it's from me and Justin."

Brian accepted Gus's present with a tender smile, wondering when the two of them had conspired to buy him a mutual present. "Thank you, Sonny Boy…I think," he said as he turned to look warily at his partner who merely smiled at him pleasantly and gave him an innocent sort of shrug. He held it up to shake it, hearing the soft, characteristic sound of clothing shifting. "What is it?" he asked teasingly as his son sat down on the other side of him. "Is it a new car? A set of golf clubs? A new pool table?"

Gus giggled. "Silly Daddy; those won't fit in there! Open it!" he urged, jiggling lightly up and down in anticipation.

"Yeah, open it, Brian," Mel called from her place on the loveseat. "We can't wait to see you model it."

He thought he heard a soft snort of amusement come from his partner at Mel's comment, which only made him even more suspicious as he looked down at the package hesitantly before he finally slid one fingernail under the end of the package and began to tear away the foil covering.

The box was a plain, white one; not providing him with many clues as to what lay inside. He could feel the stares of everyone in the room on him as he lifted the top of the box and peered at the contents; pushing the tissue paper he encountered aside, he lifted out what appeared to be a plain, white tee shirt. At least the _back_ of the shirt was unadorned; something told him, however, that the front would be a different matter.

His worse fears were confirmed as he turned the shirt over to see a photo of a yellow lab's face with balls stuffed in its jowls; surrounding the photo were the words _I'm a Proud Owner of a Yellow Lab; Got Balls?_

Gus giggled hysterically at the pained look on his father's face as Justin laughed, too, at his reaction. "Isn't it perfect, Daddy?" he asked, his face broken out in a wide grin. "I saw it and thought of you right away."

"I'm…_touched_," Brian replied finally as he held it up and looked it over; it was probably one of the gaudiest shirts he had ever seen; that is, if you overlooked Emmett's typical wardrobe.

Justin pried it out of Brian's hands to hold it up against his chest; the flash of Lindsay's cellphone camera went off, registering the scene for posterity much to Brian's mortification as he glared over at her.

"Oh, I think it'll be a perfect fit," his partner decided. "But we'd better make sure; try it on, Brian."

"Yeah, try it on, Daddy!" Gus urged, clapping his hands in encouragement.

"Not right now, Buddy; I don't want to get it wrinkled," Brian stated in an attempt to squirm out of his predicament as he turned his nose up in distaste at the 'quaint' shirt. Wasn't it bad enough that he already had a West Virginia address? Did he have to _dress_ the part now, too? One glance over at his son, however, and the disappointed look on his face and he sighed in resignation. "Okay, okay," he grumbled as he lifted his sweater up from the bottom hem and pulled it over his head. "Let me have it."

"Mel," Lindsay warned with a silencing glare as her partner started to open her mouth to reply to the loaded statement. Fortunately her partner chose to obey as she rolled her eyes silently over at her adversary, but didn't say anything out loud.

Justin grinned as he turned to helpfully tug the long-sleeved tee-shirt down over Brian's head; Brian thought he was enjoying his predicament just a little too much as he admired his handiwork. "That's good enough," he decided as he began to pull it back off.

"No, it's not," Justin decided to his consternation as he laid his hands on Brian's chest to keep the fabric in place. "We have to make sure the arms are long enough, too."

Brian flashed a sign to his partner that he was so going to pay for this later as he slowly slid his arms through the sleeves and pulled the shirt down completely to cover his chest. He heard one more flash of Lindsay's camera immediately afterward.

"Will you stop _doing_ that?" he groused to her as Justin laughed.

"We're just making photos for the family album," Mel told him. "That one will be on our Christmas card next year."

"The hell it will," he warned her as he quickly pulled the shirt back off and reached for his sweater again, feeling decidedly exposed without it – in more ways than one. He pasted what he hoped was a grateful-looking smile on his face as he turned to his son and told him, "Thank you for the gift, Sonny Boy; that was very…_thoughtful_ of you." Silently he counted off how many days his son might be visiting during the coming year, trying to determine how many times he might be subjected to having to wear it. _Shit_.

"You didn't get Justin a matching shirt, too, did you?" he asked his son hopefully.

To his disappointment, Gus shook his head. "No, that was just for you. I got Jus'n something else." He walked over to retrieve a smaller box from under the tree, again wrapped somewhat awkwardly in blue gift wrap this time with miniature snowmen all over it. "This is for you," he told Justin somewhat shyly as he handed him the package.

Justin's face broke out into a delighted smile. "Thank you, Buddy, but you didn't have to get me anything," he protested, but the look of pure joy on Justin's face told everyone how much he appreciated it nonetheless.

He pulled Gus to his side as the little boy sat down next to him on the couch and he carefully began to remove the wrapping paper.

Mel and Lindsay exchanged a knowing look as Justin opened his package; they had helped Gus pick out Justin's present and knew what it signified.

"Uh…Sunshine; you think you can speed this up just a little? I'd like to take Gus outside before the snow melts."

Justin smacked Brian on the arm as he retorted, "I just like to be careful, that's all."

"There's careful and then there's _anal_," Brian told him. He looked over at Mel and waggled a finger at her. "And YOU; don't even say it."

Mel held up her hands in acquiescence as Justin leaned in to whisper in his ear, "You can remind me later what anal means in our bedroom."

Brian smiled at the thought of some hot little 'anal' action with his man later as he whispered back, "Don't worry; I'm planning on _reminding_ you all night long."

Justin blushed slightly, his face reddening as he finally succeeded in unwrapping Gus's gift. Inside the paper was another plain, white box, only this was one slightly smaller and flatter. Justin opened the lid to find what appeared to be a small picture frame nestled inside some white, glittery tissue paper. Folding back the thin paper, he discovered it was, indeed, a photo taken last summer up in Toronto when he and Brian had visited Gus. They had taken him to the zoo and in the photo he and Gus were sitting on one of the park's benches, eating identical chocolate chip ice cream cones that he had purchased for them from the nearby concession stand. Brian had taken advantage of their carb-eating frenzy to try out a new camera he had bought, taking several shots of them together; this was one of his personal favorites.

The best part of the photo, though, was the small, engraved gold-colored plate at the bottom of the picture frame which simply said "_My Papa and Me_."

"Gus thought it would be small enough to travel with you," Lindsay explained to him softly from her place on the couch as Justin nodded, too overwhelmed with emotion at the moment to speak. If he had anything to say about it, this photo wouldn't be traveling anywhere soon; it would take a much-honored spot someone in their bedroom where he could see it every day here at Britin – his home.

Brian looked over Justin's shoulder at the familiar photo and couldn't help smiling as he read the inscription. He didn't mind Gus calling Justin that at all; in fact, he thought it was great. He heard a distinctive sniffle that his partner tried to unsuccessfully suppress as he placed his hand on Justin's shoulder and gave it a squeeze.

"Jus'n?" Gus called out; afraid that he had upset Justin somehow. "Don't you like it?"

Justin sniffed once more before he turned to grab Gus into a firm hug against his chest and wrapped his arms around the small body, one hand still holding tightly onto the cherished gift. "I love it, Buddy," he whispered against his ear. "It's the best Christmas present I've ever received." He squeezed Gus and grunted once before releasing him, ruffling his hair fondly as he gazed again at the photo.

"Jus'n?"

Justin smiled in pleasure as Brian's son climbed onto his lap like it was the most natural thing in the world and stared up earnestly into his face. "Yeah, Gus?" he asked tenderly as he held onto him so he didn't fall.

"Can I call you Papa all the time now?"

Justin's eyes watered; he admitted it. He was no good at masking his feelings, and this was certainly no exception. The past week had been a wild rollercoaster ride, from regret and sadness over his and Brian's argument to worry over Gus's safety last night during the fire. As his partner's son looked intently at him with those large, expressive, innocent eyes, however, all those negative emotions were promptly replaced with ones that threatened to topple his heart over with happiness. He looked over at Mel and Lindsay, whose smiling faces verified they had no objection.

Turning to look into Brian's face last, his partner replied softly in response, "You've been that way for a long time now; might as well make it official then."

Justin nodded as he turned to look into Gus's face and smiled. "I'd like that, Buddy; I'd like that a _lot_."

Gus nodded, satisfied that the issue was settled as he slid off Justin's lap and walked over to pick up the thick nylon cord attached to his new toboggan. "Can we go outside now, Daddy? Tricky needs to pee and I need to go sled riding."

Brian flashed a lopsided grin at his son. "Oh, so he told you he needed to go, did he?" he asked as Tricky raised his head and his ears perked up at the sound of his name. He had been curled up on a small, oval braided rug near the fireplace, eventually bored with the multitude of presents his master was opening up after being gifted with some gifts of his own: a package of new tennis balls, a pork chop squeaky toy, and a couple of extra-large rawhide chews, all of which were scattered nearby rather neglected after he had sniffed and gummed each one until they had become rather old and predictable.

Brian stood up, pulling his sweater down where it had ridden up on his stomach. He didn't miss the appreciative gaze from his partner at the small flash of bronze skin underneath; he smirked knowingly at Justin as the blond blushed, understanding exactly how he felt; he was itching to touch, fondle, suck, and lick some pale skin of his own and soon, but he also knew that would unfortunately have to wait until later. "Well, then, we'd better let Cujo out before he leaves an indelible mark on my hardwood floor."

Gus frowned as Brian walked over and picked the toboggan up off the floor, afraid Gus would scrape the bottom on the surface and leave scratches. "Daddy, what's indel'ble?" he asked curiously.

Justin smiled. "It means unforgettable, just like Tricky," he volunteered as the dog trotted up to them and he scratched him behind the ears affectionately. "He's a very _special_ dog." He didn't even want to consider what might have happened if Tricky hadn't persuaded Brian to take him outside; if he hadn't, there was a good possibility that he wouldn't be here right now.

As if he were reading his thoughts, Brian eyes locked on his as he nodded slightly. "Come on, _Papa_; our son wants to go out and play."

Justin smiled as he took Gus's hand and they walked out into the hallway to retrieve their coats.

"Wait, Daddy! Wait, Papa!" Gus said all of a sudden, running back into the living room. He returned a few seconds later with another one of Tricky's presents, a dog sweater. "I don't want Tricky to get cold," he explained. "Can you put it on him? He puts up too much of a fight for me when I try to dress him; he's worse than my sister when she has to have her diaper changed!"

Justin laughed as he took the dark brown knitted sweater and, with Brian holding onto his collar from behind to avoid being licked to death, he managed to eventually push it over the dog's head; it took several minutes of pulling and tugging, however, to get Tricky's legs through the openings, and the dog did not look happy at all over having to wear his 'fashion statement.'

Finally, the group – both human and canine – was clad warmly in coats, gloves, and hats (except Brian, who steadfastly refused to wear a hat), and trudged outside to try out Gus's toboggan around Britin's grounds.

For the next few hours, Gus had a ball riding down the hills in the snow, and then having his father pull him back UP the hill while Tricky took turns scampering along behind Gus's snow sled and then following behind Brian's heels as he dragged it back up with Gus still sitting on it; Justin spent most of the time accompanying Gus on the toboggan as the little boy shrieked in delight over the speeds they attained, but he at least had enough decency to get off once they had reached the bottom of the hill so Brian didn't have to drag HIM back up with it, also.

* * *

><p><em>Late Afternoon – Brian and Justin's Bedroom<em>

Justin strode into the bedroom and, having removed his boots downstairs by the front door, walked over and flopped himself down onto their king-sized bed to lie on his back, collapsing in exhaustion; Gus didn't seem to know what the word "restraint" was when it came to sled riding, making snowmen, ice skating, or having snowball fights; he and Brian had spent all morning and much of the afternoon watching the child and his ever-trusty companion displaying a seemingly boundless level of energy as they romped all over the grounds and the two of them tried to keep up with them. By the time he and Brian had finally been able to persuade Gus to come inside an hour ago – only because he had finally gotten hungry, not having eaten all day – the entire backyard of Britin was totally trampled in boot and paw prints where Gus and his canine companion had played in the snow. As tired as Justin was, though, it was a _good_ kind of tired, because it had been a glorious Christmas Day, one that he would have never anticipated just a few days ago. It had taken a near-tragedy to achieve it, but he couldn't remember another day when he had been happier.

The girls had thankfully taken over care of Gus and Tricky after an early dinner, knowing he and Brian were tired after having gotten very little sleep last night; over promises of letting him watch one of the new movies they had gotten him for a present, the two mothers had steered their son and Tricky to the recreational room downstairs in the house's finished basement to allow him and Brian some much needed privacy.

He let out a grateful sigh as he closed his eyes in bliss and lay on top of the down comforter. "Ahh," he breathed out. "I think every bone aches in my body right now."

From his place near their bedroom fireplace, Brian turned to look over at his partner. "Are you sure you didn't overdo it, Justin?" he asked in concern as he finished stoking up a fire he had started a few minutes ago. He knew his partner had assured him earlier that he was feeling a lot better, but the fire had been less than 24 hours ago; had his stubborn lover overdone it in an attempt to please his son? "You look exhausted," he observed as he turned to lean against the wooden mantel, one hand braced against the carved piece of wood. The wood began to crackle behind him as the fire started to burn in earnest, warming the space with an inviting glow against the quickly-waning sun setting outside their windows.

Justin opened his eyes to look over at Brian and smiled softly. "I'm fine," he reassured him. "Nothing that several hours of sleep won't cure."

"Sleep?" Brian replied as he walked over toward the bed; his eyes raked over his partner's form appreciatively. "I was thinking of some _other_ activity in our bed," he told him, his voice husky with desire. "But if you're too tired…"

He chuckled as Justin suddenly reached out and with a yank of his wrist, pulled him onto the bed to land on top of him. "I guess you're not _too_ tired, then," he replied as he curled his mouth up in amusement.

"Never too tired for _that_," Justin murmured as their lips came together for a deep kiss. The only sounds heard for the next several seconds were soft moans of appreciation from both men as, never breaking their embrace, their turned to lie facing each other on their sides for better access to each other's clothing, which was quickly becoming more and more of a hindrance to their ultimate goal.

They broke apart to begin removing each other's shirts and pants. "I want you so fucking much," Justin admitted as he urgently pulled Brian's sweater up over his head and threw it carelessly onto the floor.

"Hey, that's Armani," Brian teased him as he began to remove Justin's sweater eagerly, not caring in the least at the moment _what _happened to his designer cashmere garment. Removing each other's pants next was a bit more difficult, though, but through contorting their bodies sufficiently, they managed to discard the rest of their clothing before hands began their eager journey to reach every inch of skin attainable on each other's bodies.

Surprisingly, their union this afternoon didn't become a frantic, rough and fast one; whether tinged by their near tragedy last night or merely amazed that they were finally together again, their lovemaking instead was gentle, tender, and slow as Brian gazed into his partner's now clear, sparkling, sky-blue eyes as he rained butterfly kisses all over his face, his neck and his shoulders. Justin sighed in pleasure as his lover's hands slowly stroked his lover's chest, his nipples, his back, and his belly.

"Touch me," Justin pleaded as he gazed into the hazel eyes, now darkened with desire; he took Brian's hand and trailed it down to his leaking, throbbing cock begging for the attention that only his lover could bestow upon him. He moaned in pleasure as Brian curled his hand around the hot flesh and, using some of the precome as lubrication, expertly began an up-and-down motion on his shaft, causing Justin's heart to race and his body to squirm in tortuous desire as Brian flicked his thumb over the slippery tip on each upstroke.

As Justin's hands began to glide over the muscled arms and caressed Brian's chest lightly, Brian murmured, "Too long; too fucking long." God, how he had missed Justin's touch; it was a touch born from both love and experience in knowing his body inside and out and he knew how to please him like no other man could.

Justin groaned in disappointment as he removed his hand long enough to gently turn his partner's body so that he was now lying on his back; Brian supported his weight on his elbows and gazed down into the beautiful face, now flushed and sweaty from their initial lovemaking; shadows from the flames of the nearby fireplace danced on Justin's skin like tiny fingers of light as Brian thought of what he might have lost. He swallowed hard at the thought that if things had gone differently last night, his last words to his lover might have been ones of regret and harshness instead of the ones he longed to say now; he smiled tenderly down at Justin as he resolved to show him – and tell him – just how much he loved him and how he never wanted them to ever be apart again. How he couldn't bear that any longer.

He stared into Justin's eyes for a moment before he whispered firmly, "You're not leaving here again. I won't let you. I _can't_ let you."

Justin's eyes filled with tears at Brian's revelation; he felt exactly the same way. Last night had shown him how fleeting life could be; how something unexpected could change your lives forever. He never wanted to be away from Brian's side again. Yes, he wasn't giving up on his art, and he knew the pursuit of his creative goals would take him away from his lover temporarily from time to time, but it would be only fleeting instead of permanent. He wanted nothing more at that moment than to go to bed at night with his partner and wake up beside him in the morning, feeling his strong, muscular arms holding him securely as they slept. He couldn't think of a more wonderful way to live than that. He could have the best of _both_ worlds; it was time to take their journey together – a journey that he hoped would take the rest of their lives to complete.

As Brian reached over to locate the tube of lubricant stowed in their nightstand drawer, Justin nodded silently in agreement as his partner quickly took a few seconds to slather some of the slippery lotion onto his cock and then around Justin's entrance. He held his breath in impatient anticipation as Brian lined himself up with his smaller body and, as they locked gazes, he wrapped his legs around the trim waist and his partner pushed slightly inside; Brian instinctively held back as Justin breathed out an exhale of breath to relax, savoring the sting/burn. As Brian felt the slight give of his muscles a few seconds later, his eyes never left Justin's as he slid in deeper, tighter, harder, determinedly and possessively but not too roughly.

Justin moaned as they finally melded together as one; the phone sex was so inadequate to the real thing as he relished in the feel of Brian inside him again at last. The feeling of heat, the fullness he felt surrounding him, the throbbing of Brian's pulse against his body; it was at once both exhilaratingly familiar as well as almost unbearable in its intensity. "So good," he murmured in encouragement as Brian began to pull out, only to push back in more urgently, more deeply. "So fucking good, Brian," he virtually purred as his arms held tightly onto Brian's biceps and his lover rocked in and out of his body; every movement, every whispered word from his lover as they made love, made his heart soar and his body tense in eager anticipation as he moaned out Brian's name as a mantra over and over again. _Brian, I missed you. Brian, I love you. Brian, yes, God, yes, right there…_

He raised his pelvis to greet Brian's movements thrust for thrust as his lover began to pick up their tempo, the sweat beading all over their skin as two hearts beat in time as one. Brian grunted with each downward thrust as his cock hit Justin's sweet spot time after time, his lover's cries echoing off the walls of their room as finally he felt the telltale tension in Justin's slim body, signaling his imminent release. A few seconds later, his partner cried out one last time as he exploded all over his chest and belly, the hot liquid streaming all over his skin. The feeling of being marked, as well as his lover's muscles clenching tightly around him caused his own body to erupt in climax as he, too, shot his come within the slick walls and he collapsed on top of Justin, spent, sated, and heavy with almost overwhelming emotion.

The flames crackled in the fireplace nearby as they lay there for several seconds, Brian in no hurry to leave his lover's body, his longer frame draped over Justin's protectively like some velvety glove. He placed his head in the crook of Justin's neck and just inhaled the part musky, part sweet fragrance that was his partner's alone. He closed his eyes, savoring the moment, just listening to Justin's ragged, heavy breathing and the fast beating of his lover's heart. He unexpectedly heard Justin softly call out his name as they lay together.

"Brian?"

"Yeah, Sunshine?"

"Is that you breathing so heavily?"

There was silence as Brian listened to the rapid panting sound, realizing it was actually coming from the side of the bed. "I thought that was _you_."

They turned their heads toward the side together and discovered the origin's sound.

"I thought you closed the door, Brian."

"Well, _someone's_ either a hairy Houdini or I didn't close it hard enough."

As soon as he noticed them staring at him, Tricky began to wag his tail from side to side furiously as Brian sighed. Twisting his body to the side to flop onto his back, he rolled his eyes as his gaze locked onto their intruder before a laugh involuntarily began to bubble up from deep inside his chest; he was soon joined by Justin as he, too, began to laugh at the absurdity of it all.

"Shit," Brian muttered as Tricky gave a short bark of delight at being discovered. "Is this how you get your kicks, Cujo? Haven't you ever seen two queers fucking before? Or should I say humping." He turned to look at Justin. "You have to speak to him in the language he understands," he explained as Tricky stared over at them, his head cocked to the side as he listened to Brian's voice. He still thought it was the most captivating sound he had ever heard, and when he had recognized it just outside the bedroom door a few minutes ago, he couldn't help coming in to investigate it.

"Well, if you don't want your son to join us, I suggest you get out of bed and take your biggest fan – well, _second_ biggest fan – back outside and lock our door."

Brian rolled his eyes, wondering how he had been given such a great honor, before he rose to his feet and, with a wink back at Justin, took hold of Tricky's collar and led the reluctant, 130-pound mass of fur over to the door. "Now be a good boy and go make some puppies with a cute little collie," he heard Brian say as he pushed the dog out of their room with surprising gentleness and firmly closed the door, latching the deadbolt firmly in place.

He turned around and padded back over to the bed, noticing his partner's look of appreciation as well as his cock springing back to life again. He held out his hand. "Come on," he urged Justin as the blond placed his hand in his and he pulled him to his feet to stand beside him. "Let's go take a shower and you can demonstrate some of your own special tricks on ME now."

* * *

><p><em>AN: This is the end, dear readers! I hope you've enjoyed it.:) Tricky will be making occasional reappearances - I feel like he's a member of the family now.:) Thanks for reading!_


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